


They'll Say We're All Fools

by ahopper84



Series: Teo Torriatte [1]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: A/B/O, Alpha!John, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Beta!Freddie, Brian whump (really sorry), Fisting, Fred still dies (sorry), Gender Issues, Hurt/Comfort, John is not an asshole I swear, Love Triangles, M/M, Mpreg (mostly glossed over), Omega!Brian, Omega!Roger, References to Knotting, Slash, So much angst, True Mates, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2020-08-13 22:41:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20181904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahopper84/pseuds/ahopper84
Summary: A lot can happen In a lifetime. Strangers become friends, friends become lovers... and sometimes, lovers can become like strangers. This is the story of one man's journey, the ups and downs and ins and outs of the whole complicated mess, of discovering who you are, and learning how often that can change.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Sorry it's been so long, but I've been hard at work on this monster! It's far from done, but I've got a good chunk, so the plan is to post once a week, and hopefully not run out of finished chapters... fingers crossed. This is my first A/B/O fic so please let me know what you think!

"I swear Fred, one more deadbeat and I'm making you learn bass!" Roger groaned and tapped a beat out on the rim of his drum.

"Don't be so pessimistic, darling. This one will work out, I just know it."

"You have to admit, we haven't had the best luck." Brian plucked a string and twisted a tuning peg a fraction. "We've had to cancel three gigs already. We'll start to build a reputation if we have to back out of any more."

"It's almost enough to make me miss Tim," Roger huffed, smirking; he caught Brian's eye, and the guitarist just shook his head. 

"Too bad that one didn't stick around, Michael, the beta? He was nice."

"He was _too _nice," Freddie said, rolling his eyes. "But that's the problem with most betas - they're so damn middle-of-the-road about_ everything_."

"So what's that make you, Fred?" Roger laughed. The singer spun around with a flourish, beaming at the drummer. 

"I'm unique, of course. One of a kind."

"Not sure that's always a good thing," Brian quipped. Freddie said something sharp back, but Roger let himself zone out from the conversation. 

He hoped this next bassist would be a good fit. He just wanted to play. It was all he'd ever wanted, ever since he'd been given his first drum kit when he was six. 

Drumming was his escape. It was where he could be as aggressive, as big and loud and tough as he wanted. When people saw him walking about, they saw a pretty-boy omega, and treated him with about as much respect as you would a child playing dress-up and trying to sit at the grownups’ table. But when he was playing a gig, people paid attention, and not in the cooing, isn’t-he-sweet way. It made him feel powerful, in a way his biology never could.

Roger groaned and rolled his eyes; Brian and Freddie were still bickering, now about clothing. Their argument was interrupted by the creak of the music room door opening, and three heads turned to look at the newcomer. He was relatively unassuming, long auburn waves framing a slender face. He was thin, though not so much as Brian, and his posture seemed designed to make him look even smaller.

"Er, yes, hello. I'm here about the bassist position?"

"Yes of course darling, come right in!" Freddie gestured to a pair of empty chairs. taking one for himself. The young man hesitated, looking at Brian and Roger.

"John, was it?" Brian asked. "Why don't you tell us a little about yourself."

"Alright. Well, my name is John Richard Deacon. I was born August the 19th. I'm studying Electrical Engineering at Chelsea College. I've been playing bass since I was fourteen…"

"And how long ago was that?" Roger asked, leaning over his drums and squinting. John looked awfully young, and he blushed a bit at the question. 

"A-about five years," he answered, ducking his head. The other three exchanged glances.

"Well," Brian spoke up, "Why don't you go ahead and show us what you can do. Here, we've got an amp you can use."

John nodded and stood to plug in his bass. "Anything in particular you'd like to hear?"

"You know any Beatles?" Roger asked, and John nodded again, readying his hands. He started out playing the bass line from Day Tripper, then shifted into Come Together, followed by Paperback Writer. After that he played a bit Roger didn’t recognize; he wondered if it was something Johnd written, or if he was just playing off the cuff. His eyes were closed, and he seemed to lose himself in the music, completely in his element. He was a bit pretty too, Roger thought as he watched; he had delicate features, not completely unlike the blonde’s own, though more sharp where Roger was rounder.

As for his performance, Roger was impressed, to say the least. For his age and short amount of experience, John was surprisingly talented. He kept perfect time without feeling stiff, and his style was creative but not flashy. Roger looked at his bandmates, and they seemed equally pleased.

"How was that?" John asked when he'd finished. "I can keep going if you'd like."

“Not bad,” Roger answered, and the young man looked at him with a shy smile. “Better than half the other blokes we’ve heard today.”

"Why don't we try something together?" Freddie suggested. “Helter Skelter, do you know that one?”

“Well enough to follow along,” John said. He had an interesting accent, vaguely northern, but one Roger wasn’t familiar with. It gave his voice a unique quality Roger decided he quite liked.

Brian and Freddie started off, and John looked to Roger; they jumped in together, perfectly in time, and Roger grinned wide. He’d been expecting a bit of a delay, but somehow they just clicked, keeping the beat as the guitar and vocals wailed along, everyone giving it their all.

“My Generation,” Freddie said quickly, and they launched into that as well, followed by a couple more numbers. By the end of it everyone was breathing heavily. Roger looked at his bandmates, and they seemed just as surprised by the instant chemistry.

“Bloody hell, that was something!” he laughed, and John’s lips curled into a tiny smirk.

“I’ll say,” Freddie agreed, and Brian nodded. “John, dear, I think I speak for all of us when I say welcome to Queen!”

“Really?” John asked, his eyes wide. “You sure you don’t need to, I don’t know, discuss it?”

“Just let ‘em try to say no,” Roger said, stepping out from behind his kit. “No one’s meshed that well with us that fast. You felt it too, right, mates?”

“It did feel good,” Brian said, chewing a nail. He looked only slightly hesitant, but he looked at Roger, and his shoulders dropped. “Well don’t let me be the odd voice out. Roger and Freddie say you’re in, I’ve got no arguments.”

“That settles it then, darlings. And now, we celebrate!”

They packed up their gear and piled into Brian and Roger’s van and drove to the nearest pub. On the way there, Roger talked to John about bands and musicians they both liked. As they piled out of the car, Roger held back. 

“You lot go in, I think I dropped my lighter somewhere in the back.”

“Just be sure to lock up,” Brian said, tossing him the keys and giving a tight-lipped smile. John looked like he was going to wait, but Freddie ushered him inside, asking him about some movie he’d just seen. Roger waited until they were inside, then reached into the glove box and grabbed his scent blocker. The exertion of playing had made his last dose wear off a bit, and he didn’t want to take any chances, not around his new bandmate. He gave himself a quick once-over with it, then spritzed on a bit of musky cologne. After a quick look in the side mirror to fluff up his hair, he locked up the van and headed in.

“Alright, you bastards better have a drink ready for me!” He laughed and slid into the booth next to John, and a glass of beer was put in front of him.

“To Queen,” Freddie said, holding up his own pint. “Forever may she reign!”

“To Queen!” the others echoed, John included, as they clinked glasses. Roger met John’s eyes, and the two of them chugged back their beers; the blonde cocked an eyebrow as they raced to finish their drinks, the younger man winning. 

“Not bad at all,” Roger laughed, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “Yeah, you’ll fit right in, I think.”

“Wherever do you put it?” Freddie giggled, sipping his drink more slowly. John just shrugged and traced the rim of his empty glass. “Well, second round is on me. Back in a tic!”

“So, you said you’re studying Electrical Engineering?” Brian asked, and John sat forward eagerly. 

“Mhm. I’ve always liked tinkering with things. When I was younger I cobbled together a clock and a radio, so that the radio would come on when my alarm went off.”

“That’s brilliant!” Roger said, patting his shoulder. "We should have you fix one of those up for Freddie, maybe he’d actually be on time once in a while.”

“I’m never late, you lot are always early,” the singer said as he came back, carrying a tray with beers and shots.

“Isn’t it a bit early for the hard stuff?” Brian said, eyeing the small glasses as if they’d jump out and bite him.

“Live a little, Brimi,” Roger said, plucking two glasses off the tray and handing one to his new bass player. “Here John.”

“Thank you. Oh, um… my friends back home called me Deaky. You can too, if you like.”

“Deaky?” Fred echoed, finishing his first pint. “I love that! Yes, from now on you’re our darling Deaky.”

“Deaky it is,” Roger agreed, clinking glasses with his new friend. “A proper rockstar nickname.”

“I’m no rockstar,” John said, blushing a bit. He threw back his shot, only wincing slightly.

“Nonsense, darling. We’re all rockstars! The world just doesn’t know it yet. Brian, would you please drink your liquor? There are starving children in China. Or was it Africa?”

Brian chuckled, showing a bit of teeth, and shook his head. But he took his drink anyway, grimacing at the burn. Roger reached across the table and patted him on the head, ruffling his curls. In return, Brian gave the drummer a bashful smile.

“He’s a gentle giant, this one,” Roger said to John. “A right proper hippie, really. Doesn’t even eat meat.”

“Oh really?” John looked at Brian with interest. 

“Yeah, that’s why we never let him cook dinner. Course, me and Fred aren’t allowed in the kitchen either.”

“So what do you eat, then?” John asked, chuckling.

“Takeaway,” all three others said in unison. John laughed harder, shaking his head.

“Well if it helps at all, I’m not a horrible cook…”

“Wonderful, Deaky!” Fred exclaimed. "You can be our chef as well. We all chip in here and there, you see. I do the shopping, Roger washes up, Brian makes sure the lights stay on. You're exactly what we were missing, in more ways than one, it seems!"

“Yeah, we’ll make a proper housewife out of you,” Roger teased, elbowing the bassist and making him blush; he cleared his throat, the joke falling awkwardly. “Right, anyway… We should work out when we can practice.”

They spent the next couple hours aligning John’s schedule with their own, as well as sharing stories from the band’s short but sordid past. Eventually the need for food outweighed the desire for alcohol, and the quartet decided to get takeaway and go back to their flat.

“It was just Fred and me first,” Roger explained as they drove, the mouth-watering smell of fish and chips permeating the small van. “But Bri was around all the time anyway, so we figured it’d be easier, plus it brought rent down a third.”

“Don’t be surprised if we tempt you to join us,” Freddie said from the front seat. “We are quite persuasive. Especially Roger here; he just has to bat those baby blues, and people fall over themselves to please him. Isn’t that right, Rogie?”

Roger sneered at Fred. “You know I hate when you call me that. And you make me sound like some cheap tart.”

“Oh yes, but you’re _our tart_, and certainly not cheap.” Freddie earned a swift kick to the back of his seat, and he had the sense to look at least a little sorry. 

“Lay off him, Fred,” Brian chided.

“My hero,” Roger deadpanned, crossing his arms. His buzz was quickly turning sour with the ribbing. Most days it didn't bother him as much, when it was just the three of them, but he didn't want any part of John's first impression of him to be sullied by them taking the piss.

“For what it’s worth,” John said quietly, nudging the blonde’s side, “I don’t think you look like a tart at all. Though your eyes are quite pretty.” John seemed surprised by his own words, his cheeks turning red, and he looked away. Roger, caught off guard by the compliment, smiled a bit despite himself. 

He caught Brian’s eyes in the rearview mirror, and there was something curious about the older man’s expression. Roger wasn’t sure if Brian had heard what John said, but he was sure his own shy smile was at least a little out of character. He usually never had a problem taking compliments, as long as they were sincere. But for some reason, John's praise struck a chord, somewhere deep within him.


	2. Chapter 2

"You've got to be joking. I'm not posing bloody naked."

"Calm down, dear," Freddie said, crossing his arms over his chest. "You wouldn't actually be naked, you'd still have your pants on. Anyway, Mick promises it would very tasteful. Artsy, you know?"

Roger paced back and forth across the small dressing room; he looked to Brian and John, sitting on the couch, who thankfully looked as unsure as he felt.

"I don't know," Brian spoke up, smiling at Roger's exasperated 'thank you'. "It could easily be taken the wrong way. We're just starting to build up some credibility, and this could potentially undercut that."

"Right?" Roger agreed. "We're not posing for a damn skin rag. Deaky, you get it, right?"

"It does seem a bit… tawdry," he said, chewing his nail. "Then again… it does seem rather… what's the word you used, Freddie? Glam?"

"Yes exactly!" The singer exclaimed. "We're rockstars, proper ones now! Why shouldn't we be a bit over the top? And we are fabulously gorgeous, after all. Why shouldn't we show off a bit?"

"Roger," John said carefully, "you did a bit of modelling for that fashion magazine a few months back, didn't you? And that came out lovely."

"You saw that?" Roger asked, a little surprised when the bassist nodded. "Yeah, well… that was different though. This would be showing… well, everything."

"It's not like you've got anything to hide," Brian said. "You're perfect." He turned a little red and looked down. Roger gave him a half-smile, and sighed.

"You really are," John said, nodding. "I wish I looked half as good as you." That made Roger blush, and he nudged his friend. 

"I could say the same about you, Deaks."

John looked up at Roger with a smirk; the two held each other's eyes for a beat. It made Roger think. Of course John was attractive, anyone with eyes could see that. It was something Roger had known since day one. Maybe that was why he didn't mind so much when John teased him about being pretty. 

It went both ways, their playful banter often sounding more like flirting. Roger tried not to think too much into it. John was his bandmate, and his friend - maybe even his best friend. In the two years they'd known each other, they'd grown thick as thieves. It was funny, how well they fit together. Almost as if- 

"Not that looks are the important thing," Brian said, his tone holding the slightest edge. "It's the music that matters."

"Darling, this is rock and roll! Image is just as important! Or do you really think Elvis would have become such a sensation if he wasn't a heartthrob to boot?"

"It would certainly get people's attention," John added, standing up. "What's the phrase, no such thing as bad press?"

"That's the spirit!" Fred grinned and threw an arm around John's shoulders. "It would do you wonders too, I think, getting you out of that shell you're always hiding in."

"I still don't know," Roger sighed. "What do you think, Brimi? Pros and cons, how does it shake out for you?"

The guitarist bit his lip and looked at Roger, his eyes flickering almost imperceptibly up and down. 

"I suppose… it couldn't hurt, just to try. We can decide after whether to release the photos or not. But only if we're all onboard with it," he added, still looking up at the drummer.

"Bloody hell. No pressure, right?" Roger laughed, and ran a hand through his hair. "Ah sod it, fine. Let's just get it over with, yeah?"

“Wonderful! I’ll just go let him know, and see what he needs from us.” Freddie gave John’s shoulders a squeeze, then hurried out of the dressing room.

“Well this should be… interesting,” John said, rocking on his heels. Freddie came back a moment later, with Mick in tow. 

“Alright boys,” the photographer said, clapping his hands together. “Hope no-one went commando today. We’ve got some spare drawers if you need. But just go ahead and strip down, then head on out.” He nodded to them, then went back through the door, closing it behind him. Fred was already unbuttoning his shirt, and looked at the other three expectantly.

“Well come on! Nothing we haven’t all seen before, no need to get shy on each other now!”

Roger looked uneasily at the others, hands toying with the hem of his shirt. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of his body; he was small, as most omegas were, but he was in decent shape. And it wasn’t even like they hadn’t changed in front of each other before. Hell, he and Brian had spent plenty of time together, skin pressed to sweat-slick skin during desperate times. No, Brian wasn’t the issue.

His eyes darted to the bassist. Why was he so nervous about undressing in front of John? He couldn’t explain it. He’d never asked, but he was almost positive John was a beta - he never gave off a real vibe or scent in either direction. So that couldn’t be the reason. Maybe it was the way the younger man looked at him. All their flirting seemed harmless when looked at in pieces, but maybe there was more to it. He loved spending time with John, laughing over nothing, or talking about what they would do once they really made it. Sometimes they would sit in silence, reading or listening to records, and just enjoying each other’s company. It gave Roger a sense of peace he’d rarely found in anyone else, and that was a little unsettling, in a way.

“You alright there, Rog?” Brian spoke up, drawing the blonde’s attention. Brian looked at him a bit critically, and Roger realized he’d been staring in John’s direction; the younger man was staring down, but his cheeks held a faint pinkish hue. 

“Yeah, just got a bit lost for a moment. We really doing this, then?” he laughed, pulling his shirt up over his head. He felt a pair of eyes on him, and a glance up confirmed John was trying to subtly watch him. That sent an odd chill down Roger’s spine, not exactly unpleasant. He caught John’s gaze, and for a moment they locked eyes; Roger unbuttoned his jeans and tugged them down, his heart rate spiking.

“You two need a moment?” Brian muttered, and Roger’s head whipped around, his brow furrowed.

“What’s that?” he asked, but Brian just shrugged. Roger stared at him for a moment, but the other omega avoided his eyes, stripping down quickly. Roger shook his head and stepped out of his jeans, groaning when he realized he’d picked the paisley low-cut briefs he’d bought on a whim. A quick peek at Brian and Fred revealed the usual white cotton, while John was sporting a nude pair that seemed to disappear against his pale skin. Roger’s eyes widened, however, when he saw the surprisingly large bulge in said drawers. Brian cleared his throat again, and Roger straightened suddenly.

“Really, Roger, you’d think you’d never seen a boy’s pants before.” There was an edge to Brian’s words, and Roger’s head snapped back in surprise. He opened his mouth to speak, but the taller man was already stalking out of the room. He hadn’t really been staring that much, had he? He finished undressing the same time as Fred and John, the three of them heading out to the main area of the studio. Brian was waiting, hip cocked and arms crossed.

It wasn’t the first time he’d gotten like this. Usually Roger chalked it up to a bad mood; Brian’s emotions always ran at the extreme ends of the spectrum, but especially on the low end. But it seemed to be getting worse lately, and often centered around Roger and John. But they were all friends, so it didn’t make sense, unless…

“Alright boys,” Mick spoke up. “Let’s get you in position here. Actually… Julia, hand me that armband? Here Fred, try this on. Okay, let’s try lining you up first, Roger in front, Brian you next to him.”

“What’s with you today?” Roger said quietly, trying to move his mouth as little as possible while Mick took a few shots.

“Nothing,” Brian hissed, shifting a bit closer. Mick rearranged them and took another couple snaps.

“Bollocks. What were those comments about, then? You’ve been getting pissy a lot lately, and it seems to be whenever I’m hanging around John more than you’d like.”

“You really want to do this now, Rog?” Brian snapped, drawing Fred’s attention. John seemed willfully ignorant, staring straight ahead.

“John, Roger, you two step up on that riser, Brian and Fred in front. Yeah, that looks nice. Roger, cross your arms in front. John, can you put your hand on Roger’s arm?”

Roger gave a curt nod, then turned his attention to the man in front of him. John was slightly below, and the way he looked up at Roger, his hand gently resting on the drummer’s arm, made his breath hitch in his throat.

“Beautiful,” Mick said, nodding as the camera shutter clicked. He rearranged the band a few more times before setting them loose to get dressed. Brian was the first off the set, his long legs carrying him swiftly to the dressing room. 

“I wonder what’s got him all in a tizzy,” Fred said, but the singer’s eyes darted between his other two bandmates. Roger sighed heavily as he trailed behind. The air between the four men was thick with tension; or maybe it was all in Roger’s head, he couldn’t be sure. But when they were getting ready to leave, he grabbed Brian’s arm and pulled him back.

“Out with it,” he spat. “I don’t know what your problem is lately, but I’m getting tired of it. Even Fred’s noticed.”

“I told you, it’s nothing,” Brian said, trying to wrench his arm from Roger’s grip, but the younger omega held fast. Roger stared up at him, his expression softening after a moment. 

“Are you… you’re not jealous? Thinking he’s stealing your best mate, or some nonsense?”

Brian didn’t answer, not with words; but the way his eyes darted away said enough. Roger released his arm and let out a breath.

“You’ve got to be… Brian, we’ve been friends for ages. We’ve… The things we’ve been through?” Roger took a step closer and lowered his voice. “The things you know about me, that no one else does? How could you think anyone could replace that?”

“It’s different,” Brian replied, his eyes shifting to Roger, then away again.

“What’s different?”

“The way you look at him!” Brian snapped, then reeled back, as if shocked by his own outburst. He swallowed hard and crossed his arms over his chest, hugging himself. “The way you act around him. Hell, the way you react _to_ him. I tell you how lovely you are all the time, but he says it once and you blush like a schoolgirl.”

“I do not,” Roger spat, rolling his eyes. But doubt nagged at the edge of his mind. Brian’s eyes turned from anger to sorrow, and he reached down as if to touch Roger, but pulled his hand back and turned away 

“I’m losing you to him. I know I am. And I’m sorry I’m not taking it well.”

“John and me, we're just mates,” Roger said, but his eyes dropped to the floor. "You're my brother." He heard Brian heave a deep sigh, then felt the taller man nudge his face back up. Reluctantly he met his friend’s gaze, and the mixture of pain and acceptance he saw there made his heart ache.

“You’re a shitty liar, Rog. You like him, and he likes you. And…” Brian paused, and took a trembling breath. “As your friend, as your… brother… it’s not right of me to stand in the way of that. I need to just accept it, and wish for your happiness.” His voice wavered on the last word, and Roger could see how glassy his eyes were.

“I… you really think so?”

“You're hopeless," Brian laughed after a moment. He took a step back and wiped his eyes roughly. “God save you, you’re absolutely hopeless. Look, I’m sorry for being a prat. I promise not to let my… whatever, get in the way again. You should ask him out.”

Roger looked down, picking at his nails. The thought had crossed his mind, briefly, though he hadn’t wanted to admit it. But when he stopped fighting it, the thought of taking John out properly sent a warmth spreading through his chest. He let out a shaky sigh of his own and ran a hand through his hair. 

“Still best mates?”

“The very best,” Brian nodded. “Go on, pretty boy.”

“Bugger off,” Roger laughed. The two of them caught up with Fred and John outside, but Roger pulled the bassist aside. 

“So, Deaky… I was wondering. You and me… we get along good, yeah?”

“Of course,” John said, eyeing the blonde curiously. “Why?”

“Well, I was just thinking… I mean, if you don’t want to, it’s more than fine, I just thought…” Roger looked down and kicked a pebble. “Christ, I’m rubbish at this.”

“You can ask me anything,” John said, his voice soft. Roger looked up at him, at his lovely stormy eyes, and his pretty smile, and his heart did an odd flutter.

“D’you want to go out sometime? Like… just you and me?”

John stared at him for a moment, and his stomach twisted into knots. But then the younger man smiled and nodded. 

“Yes, Roger. I think I’d quite like that.”

“Yeah?” The omega laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright. Well then, yeah. Anyway.”

“Come on, lovebirds!” Fred called from the waiting car, and Roger felt his cheeks heat up. He looked back at John, who seemed equally embarrassed, though a smile played on his lips.


	3. Chapter 3

Roger had always loved Christmas. He loved everything about it; the lights, the decorations, the songs. And of course the presents, both giving and receiving. His parents had never had much money to spend, but they’d always tried to make the holiday special for him and his younger sister. Since leaving home, he’d always tried to do the same for his friends. Maybe that was why, a week after asking John out, he decided a shopping day would make for a nice first date.

After a quiet lunch, Roger showered and dressed; he wanted to look good for John, which felt like an odd thing to think, but it was the truth. He spent more time than usual on his hair, fluffing it just right. The last thing he usually did before leaving the flat was take his scent and hormone blockers; he looked at them, sitting in his nightstand drawer, but hesitated. He wasn’t sure if John actually knew he was an omega. He’d never said anything about it, and the social norm was if you can’t tell, you don’t ask. And beyond that, Roger usually did everything possible to hide his nature. 

The truth was, he hated being an omega. He’d hated it ever since he knew what it meant, that he was biologically destined to submit to another’s will, to be small and weak and intrinsically _less than_. It was why he’d always tried to build himself up, to be as big and loud as he could. It was part of why he’d become a drummer. And it was why he’d done whatever it had taken to secure a steady supply of hormone and scent blockers, even before he was old enough to legally acquire them.

He liked John, though. The younger man made him feel comfortable in his own skin, which wasn’t a state he found himself in that often. Brian was the only other person he’d ever felt so secure around. And he was going on a date, after all; that made his decision that much more complicated. It wasn’t like he was expecting it to get physical per se, but there was always the potential. He wasn’t sure he was ready to be topped - that required a whole other level of trust that only one person had ever earned, and that had taken years. Still…

Roger swallowed hard and ran a shaky hand through his hair, scratching at his scalp. He glanced at the clock; John was probably already waiting for him. Making up his mind, he sprayed himself with a light mist of scent blocker and closed the drawer, his hormone pills untouched, then hurried out to the living room.

“All set, Deaks?” he asked, grabbing his coat and scarf off the rack by the door. John was already bundled up, his smile peeking out of the collar of his peacoat. “Alright, we’re off,” he said to Brian and Freddie, who were sitting on the couch reading. Fred looked up and gave them a smile, but Brian stared down at his astronomy textbook, not giving any indication he’d even heard Roger. 

“Have fun, darlings,” Fred replied. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”

“That’s a short list,” Brian muttered, peering over the top of his book, and Roger chuckled as the singer smacked his arm. John opened the door for Roger, and they stepped out into the brisk December air. 

“Anyplace in particular you wanted to go?” John asked, and Roger shrugged. 

“Figured we could walk over to Carnaby Street. Not really sure what I want to get for anyone yet, but they’ve always got interesting stuff down there.”

“I need to pick up some new strings while we’re out, if we could stop at a music shop?” John asked, and Roger nodded, turning in the right direction. They walked in silence for a bit; Roger wanted to strike up a conversation, but his mind was completely blank.

“Have you heard the new Lennon album yet?” he asked after a couple of blocks.

“I think I heard the single on the radio the other day. Not his best work, honestly.”

“Yeah, I heard it was a bit rubbish. You think he’ll ever get back with the others?”

“It’d be a pleasant surprise.”

Roger hummed his agreement. He looked at the sky; the clouds hung low and heavy, moving quickly. 

“Think it’ll snow?” John asked, drawing Roger’s attention.

“Looks like it. Hopefully we won’t get caught in it, but we can always hail a cab if we do. I hope we get a white Christmas this year; been a few since we’ve had one.”

“Will you be visiting your mum?”

“Dunno. Might see her between Christmas and New Year’s. Haven’t been back since last summer. How ‘bout you?”

“I’ll probably do the same. Mum came for my graduation, but that was the last I’ve seen her.”

“Right. She seemed nice.” Another few blocks passed them by, and Roger whistled a nameless tune, hands in his pockets.

“Roger,” John said, nudging the blonde’s elbow with his own. The two came to a stop at a crossing, and turned to face each other. “You don’t have to be nervous, you know. It’s just me.”

“That’s sort of the problem, innit?” Roger laughed uneasily and toed the pavement. “First dates are usually about getting to know someone, but I know you well enough already.”

“Do you?”

Roger quirked his head and looked at the younger man, who stared back with a slight smirk. Slowly, the omega's own lips curled upwards as well. Just like that, the awkward tension between them seemed to melt. 

“So tell me about yourself, John. What makes a good looking bloke like yourself tick?"

The two laughed and started walking again, the conversation finally flowing. John told him stories of his first band, and the reel-to-reel he’d fixed to record songs off the radio; Roger shared memories of his own first band when he was seven, and how his first instrument was actually the ukulele. 

“We’ll have to work that into a song,” John laughed. “Should we look around in here?” he asked as they passed a second-hand store of vintage clothes.

“Yeah, this might be good. I know Brian could use a new coat.” They browsed the shop for a while, not finding anything worth buying then and there, but they had fun showing each other increasingly outrageously outdated items.They stopped in a couple other shops, bouncing ideas back and forth. In the third, Roger came around a row of trousers to see John looking at a pair of suede platform boots.

“Not bad,” Roger said. “Thinking for you?”

“Maybe,” John replied with a noncommittal shrug. 

“You should try them on. Here, there’s a bench behind you.”

“Oh I don’t know. We’re supposed to be shopping for others.”

“Yeah, and I need ideas for you, don’t I?” Roger smirked, eyebrows up, and John conceded with a sigh. Roger looked at the display behind him while the younger man sat and switched his flats for the boots.

“Well, what do you think?”

Roger looked up, and blinked. John did a turn, looking in the mirror, but Roger’s eyes were drawn to his legs. The platforms seemed to make them look longer, and when John turned around, Roger realized the change in angle did wonders for his backside. He felt his cheeks heating up, doubly so when John cleared his throat.

“So, does that look mean they’re alright?” John asked as he stood there, hands on his cocked hips.

“Yeah,” Roger said, his voice a bit breathy. “Yeah, I’d say those work for you.”

“Hm, maybe I’ll put them on my list then.” John winked and sat to take them off again, and Roger felt a second wave of heat rush to his face and flood down his body. 

“You know what, keep ‘em on.” 

“What? Roger, no. Christmas isn’t for weeks.” John’s cheeks darkened, but Roger shook his head.

“You like them, don’t you?” he asked; the younger man bit his lip, but nodded. “Well, odds are they won’t be here in three days, let alone by the end of the month. I want to get them for you,” he said, his tone softening. “Please?”

John eyed him for a long moment, fingers gripping the zipper of one boot. Finally he heaved a sigh and nodded.

“Alright, but only if that’s the only gift you’re getting me.”

“I make no such promises,” Roger replied, grinning. He didn’t know exactly why he was so insistent, but the way John had looked in the platforms, and the preening pride that he’d felt radiated from his date, soothed something in the drummer. He went up to the cashier to pay, wincing a little at the price; but if it made John happy, that was enough of an excuse for him.

John held the door for them as they left the shop, his old shoes in a bag. They came across a music shop where John was able to get some strings, and Roger stared longingly at a beautiful acoustic guitar. It was exquisite, with mother of pearl inlays; he ran his fingers down the neck, smiling at the quiet thrum. He felt a pair of eyes on him and turned to see John, his grey-green eyes darting up.

“Quite nice. Brian would appreciate it.”

“Oh… yeah, right. Brian.” Roger pulled his hand back and gave a sheepish smile. Honestly he wanted it for himself, and the way John’s eyebrow quirked suggested the other man picked up on it. “Anyway, how’s about we get some dinner, yeah?”

“Sure, Rog.” John opened the door for the blonde, but paused and looked into his bag. “Damn. I think I got the wrong strings. Tell you what, go get us a table at Franco’s, and I’ll be along as soon as I have what I need.”

“I don’t mind waiting,” Roger said, but the younger man shook his head. 

“They’re a bit busy, it might take a few to get some assistance. Go on, I’ll be right there, I promise.”

Roger eyed him for a minute, but found himself nodding. 

“Alright… if you’re sure. Just don’t make me wait too long,” he teased.

“I won’t,” John chuckled, giving Roger’s shoulder a push. “Go.”

Roger turned and started down the sidewalk without another thought. The restaurant was a few blocks down, a lovely little Italian place. The perfect spot for a romantic dinner, he thought with a smile. He had the hostess bring him to a table near the back; while he wasn’t ashamed of being on a date with another bloke, sometimes it was just easier to not flaunt it.

Minutes ticked by, and Roger started to get nervous; he didn’t think John would ditch him, but the date had gotten off to a rocky start. Still, they’d moved past that, or so he thought. But maybe John was realizing Roger made a better friend than-

"Sorry that took so long.”

Roger looked up with a smile that fell immediately; John stood before him, guitar case in hand.

“Decided to get that, did you? Way to steal my gift idea,” Roger chuckled, but John shook his head and handed him the case.

“Actually… it’s for you.”

Roger blinked, and stared at his date.

“You… you’re joking, right? You can’t really mean…” He looked down at the case, taking it with shaking hands. He flipped the latches and opened the lid, and sure enough there she was, shining and beautiful. Roger’s breath caught in his throat. “Deaky… I can’t accept this. It’s too much.”

“Well they’ve got a strict no return policy, so unless you want to re-gift it, which would be highly insulting if you ask me...” John smirked, his confident tone undercut by the way his eyes shifted. “Anyway, you bought me these shoes, so… And you really seemed to want this… Unless I was wrong? I can try to exchange it if you really don’t want it.”

“John,” Roger said quietly. He almost never used the bassist’s first name anymore, and so that got his attention. “I love it. But… you really want to give this to me? I know you appreciated the shoes, but this had to have cost four times as much, easily. You have to let me pay you back.”

“Not worried about the price,” John replied, shaking his head. He reached out, hesitated for a moment, then touched Roger’s shoulder. “Just tell me you like it, and that’ll be payment enough.”

Roger hummed at John’s touch and leaned closer to him, closing his eyes. Heat spread from his cheeks down to his chest, his heart doing a flip. 

“I love it,” he whispered. “It’s the most wonderful gift anyone’s ever given me.”

The hand on Roger’s shoulder moved up to cup his cheek, lifting his face. Roger acted almost on reflex, turning his face into the touch. He searched John’s eyes, feeling a pull in his gut. Before he knew what was happening John had leaned down, brushing their lips together in the slightest suggestion of a kiss. He felt John inhale deeply, before the bassist suddenly pulled back.

“We should have dinner.” 

Roger blinked, his head a bit fuzzy for a moment. He set the guitar case aside and smiled at John, who slid into the seat across from him.

“Y-yeah… I haven’t ordered yet.”

“Thank you for waiting.”

“I’d say it was worth the wait,” Roger said, feeling uncharacteristically cheesy. John rolled his eyes, but his lips curled into a smile. Roger decided he loved that smile, and made a promise to himself to bring it out as often as possible.

Their meal passed in a blur, conversation sparse but easy. John tried to pay the bill, but Roger insisted it was up to him, as he was the one that’d asked. They ended up going fifty-fifty, and soon they were stepping outside. The sun had gone down while they ate, and white flakes fluttered through the air, the ground already covered in a light dusting.

“I’ll call us a taxi,” John said, stepping over to the payphone. Roger turned away, and hugged the guitar case to his chest, then leaned it against the lamppost next to him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this happy; maybe the first time he’d played a gig, or the first show where John had been part of the lineup. 

“Should be here in a few,” John said, coming up next to him. “Rog, you’ve forgotten your gloves, haven’t you?” he asked when he looked down; the blonde’s fingers were turning pink, and John took them between his own hands, rubbing vigorously. He lifted them to his mouth and blew, his lips brushing the knuckles. Roger drew in a sharp breath as blue eyes met grey, and he felt another flash of heat despite the bitter cold. He took a step closer as John laced their fingers together, tucking their joined hands into the pockets of his coat.

Roger took the initiative this time, darting forward and kissing John’s lips. He felt the man sigh and wrap his arms around the blonde. They stayed like that until a car horn made them break apart, laughing nervously. Roger grabbed his case and John opened the door for him, sliding into the taxi after the blonde. Roger could feel the heat radiating off the younger man, and he shifted to press their sides closer together.

The ride back to the flat seemed to drag on forever. John rested his hand on Roger’s knee, and the blonde swore he’d have a mark from the burning touch. He caught a whiff of alpha scent; he noticed the placard on the back of the driver’s seat was marked with a red A, and he shook his head. They were supposed to use scent blockers while on duty, but maybe this one was pulling a double. He tried to focus on John, covering his hand with his own, and quietly cursed London traffic.

Finally they pulled up in front of the flat; John paid the driver before Roger gould argue, and they both hurried up, laughing at their own eagerness. The apartment was quiet when they entered, and Roger spied a note on the table nearest the door. He hung up his coat and scarf, then picked it up and read aloud.

“Gone out for the evening. Have fun, play safe, and keep to the bedroom. Fred and Brian.” He set the note down and looked at John, who stared back, an almost frightening intensity in his eyes.

“Bedroom, then?” John said, his voice hushed, and Roger swallowed hard. The younger man held out his hand and lead Roger to John and Brian’s shared room, closing the door behind them. They stared at each other a moment more, and then the dam broke. They came together like magnets, mouths pressed together and hands clutching shirts. John started to walk him back towards one of the beds, but Roger growled and spun them around, taking the lead. They tumbled down, and Roger made quick work of unbuttoning John’s shirt. A heady smell filled his nostrils, and his head started to cloud with need.

“Christ, you’re lovely,” he panted, kissing down the other man’s chest. He felt a coil of pleasure in his belly beginning to tighten as he ran his hands up and down John’s thighs.

“No, you’re the lovely one. So beautiful, so perfect.”

Roger practically purred at the praise, and nuzzled his cheek against John’s chest, inhaling deeply. He felt like the room was spinning, John’s hands like fire as he pulled Roger’s shirt off and smoothed down his back. He rolled to his side, laying next to John and slotting their legs together. John grabbed Roger’s hips, grinding them against his own; the blonde gasped at the hardness he felt, the fire in his belly making him break out in sweat. He was nearly out of his mind with need, the rest of the world falling away outside of John’s touch.

“Roger!” John gasped, and something in him broke, his mind going blank for a moment. 

“Alpha!” he moaned, flipping onto his knees and shoving his ass in the air.

Everything stopped in an instant. Where the outside world had been just white noise before, suddenly he was painfully aware of his surroundings. He was presenting, his body covered in a light sheen of sweat. It wasn’t a heat exactly, but it was damn close.

A tremor ran down his spine as he jumped up, eyes wide and panicked. He stared at John, who looked at him like one would a spooked animal. Another shiver ran down his spine; he took a breath, and all he could smell was alpha.

“John?” he said, his voice trembling. “You… you’re an… alpha?”

“And you’re an omega?” John let out a breath and closed his eyes. “I had no idea.”

“I… hide it. So do you, apparently.” Roger let out a humorless laugh. He felt nauseous. “I… I’m sorry. I have to…” He was up in an instant, darting out of the room and into his and Fred’s, the door slammed behind him. He’d never been so humiliated. As he slid to the floor, arms wrapped around his chest and head on his knees, he desperately tried to slow his racing heart. He could still feel the omega need gnawing at his insides, and he hated himself for it.


	4. Chapter 4

For the next couple days, Roger avoided John like the plague. He only ever left his room to use the loo and to eat, and even then he always checked to see if the kitchen was empty. He slunk around like a skittish cat, shoulders hunched and head down. If he’d had a tail it would’ve been firmly tucked between his legs. 

His new guitar sat in its case, untouched; Fred had brought it into the room that night. He hadn’t asked Roger what’d happened, and for that the blonde was grateful. Fred could be nosier than a suburban housewife at times, but he knew when to stay out of it, too. When he’d come home to find Roger curled up in bed, tear tracks on his cheeks, he’d just pulled the covers up over the blonde and let him rest.

It was a Thursday morning when John finally cornered Roger. The drummer was having breakfast, for the first time eating in the common area instead of his own room. He sat cross-legged on the couch, bowl of cornflakes in hand. His head snapped up, spoon held halfway between bowl and mouth, when the younger man entered the room. They locked eyes for a moment, and Roger considered bolting, but John held up his hands in a placating gesture.

“Can we talk, please?” he asked quietly, taking a step towards the couch. Roger visibly tensed, but didn’t otherwise move; John took a seat at the other end of the couch, leaving the middle space open. They sat in silence for a long moment, Roger chewing slowly as if to draw as little attention to himself as possible. John stared down at his hands, fingers lacing and unlacing. Roger glanced down and noticed John was wearing his new boots, and smiled softly.

“I’m sorry,” John said without looking up. “If I pushed too fast, or came on too strong, if I did anything you didn’t want… I should have asked. I promised myself I’d never be that kind of alpha, the one who just takes what they want. I hope you can forgive me.”

Roger stared down into the mushy remnants of his breakfast. Carefully, he leaned forward and set the bowl on the coffee table, then sat back. He felt surprisingly calm, the tension in his body slowly easing. 

“I should be the one apologizing,” he said finally, his voice rough from disuse. “I just…” His face scrunched as he tried to find the words. How did he explain a lifetime of detesting his own nature, and the shock of suddenly submitting to it against his conscious will? 

“Roger. I’ve known you for how long now? Long enough to know that your personality, everything about you, is nothing like a typical omega. And, correct me if I’m wrong, but that seems to be a conscious decision? And if that’s true, if you’ve spent however long fighting those ingrained instincts, then I’d imagine it would come as a hell of a shock to have them suddenly take over. Like losing yourself.”

Roger stared in awe. John had managed to sum it up perfectly. He nodded dumbly, lips parted. 

“It may not be exactly the same, but I’ve never been completely comfortable with the expectations put on me as an alpha, either. I’m not big, or brash, or even particularly confident. I used to think there was something wrong with me, that maybe I wasn’t what my biology said I was. I think we’re very much alike in that respect. Neither one of us is who our genetics said we should be. But we are who we are, for better or worse. And, for what it’s worth…” John paused to look at Roger, and the blonde was surprised at the rosy hue to the other’s cheeks. “I quite like who you are, biology be damned.”

Roger was speechless. His mouth went dry and his face heated up as he stared at John, the man who’d quickly become one of his dearest friends. Who he’d had an amazing date with, up until he’d mucked it up with his baggage. Who he still fancied.

“I like you too,” he quietly replied. “And I am sorry. I really… really enjoyed our date,” he breathed, his gaze dropping. He swallowed hard and turned in his seat to face John, hands in his lap.

“I did too.” John reached over, his hand hesitating between the two of them. Waiting. Roger’s heart fluttered, and he held out his own hand; their fingers brushed, testing the waters, before interlocking. They both sighed at the same time, and looked up, chuckling nervously.

“I liked kissing you too,” John admitted, a sly curve to his lips. “I’d like to do it again, if you’ll let me? I promise to follow your lead, let you set the pace. Nothing happens that you don’t want.”

Roger’s heart did another twist at that, at the care and patience John was showing him. He’d never met an alpha like him before, one that didn’t expect him to just bend to their will. And he did want John, there was no point denying that. The air between them thickened, the hair on Roger’s arms standing on end. He swallowed past the lump in his throat and nodded, brushing his thumb over John’s.

The younger man shifted closer on the couch, and as easy as breathing, the two of them tilted their faces together. The kiss was brief and hesitant, neither one closing their eyes completely. Roger felt his instincts beginning to whisper at the back of his mind, but John touched his cheek, drawing his focus. He could do this, be with John without letting his instincts cloud his conscious mind.

He closed his eyes and pressed his lips more firmly against John's. The alpha moved the hand on his cheek to the back of his neck, not pulling, just holding, fingers scratching his scalp and sending little tingles down his spine. Roger moved his free hand to John’s knee, gripping the rough denim. His body flushed with heat, and he let his lips part slightly, tongue darting out to slide against John’s lower lip. He felt more than heard the low moan that rumbled from the younger man’s chest, and it made a spark of desire ignite in his belly.

“Should we move this elsewhere?” he panted, pulling back to stare at John through heavy-lidded eyes. The other man blinked slowly, then nodded, standing and pulling Roger to his feet. 

“Lead the way,” he said, stepping aside, and Roger smiled. Their hands stayed linked as they crossed the flat to Roger’s bedroom, and this time it was the blonde who shut the door behind them. He turned to look at John, who stood their waiting patiently. It was so different from their last attempt, and Roger felt a wave of gratitude. He stepped in close and kissed John again, winding his fingers in his long auburn waves. 

Closed-mouthed kisses led to deeper ones, fingers gripped clothing tighter, and John let himself be lowered to the bed. Roger kissed the expanse of his neck, loving how responsive the younger man was; everything he did drew a different sound from him, and he smirked as he played a game, seeing how many sensitive spots he could find. Shirts were soon tossed aside, and Roger lay on top of John, their legs slotted together and hips grinding against one another’s. When John’s hand smoothed down Rogers back to cup his ass, the blonde tensed.

“I’m sorry,” John breathed immediately, moving his hand back up.

“S’alright,” Roger replied, sitting up a bit. “Just… I can’t. Not that.” He felt his cheeks burn with shame, until John pressed his lips to one.

“I’d never ask you to do anything you’re not comfortable with. We don’t have to go that far. Or…” 

Roger cocked his head and looked down at John; the younger man wore a shy smirk, the kind he usually donned when he was thinking something particularly naughty.

“Or what?” Roger prompted, rocking against John and drawing a high-pitched whine from him. He chuckled and did it again and again, until John was gripping his biceps, his back arched off the bed.

“Or you c-could… top me,” he gasped finally. 

Roger stared down at him, eyes wide. He’d never been asked to top anyone before, and definitely never dreamed an alpha would ask him. The thought of doing it to John, to be between his legs, fucking into him and making him moan his name, made Roger’s head spin and his cock strain against his jeans.

“John… are you sure?”

“I’d really like you to, actually,” he admitted, his cheeks bright red. “Unless you don’t want to, in which case-”

Roger silenced him with his lips, moaning against his mouth.

“You’re going to be the death of me, Deaks,” he breathed, leaning their foreheads together. “You’re bloody amazing.”

“Hurry up and get these off then,” John chuckled, tugging at Roger’s bell bottoms. Roger nodded and sat up, stripping them both. When he finally got to see John his eyes went wide.

“Well now I know you’re an alpha.” The omega in him whined at the sight of the long, thick cock, and Roger felt the urge to flip over, but he resisted. Instead he leaned down and licked a stripe along the pulsing vein, making John cry out when he wrapped his lips around the head. He’d gone down before a few times, and considered himself pretty damn good at it. If the way John desperately whined and clutched at the blankets was any indication, the alpha thought so too.

Roger pulled back, letting John’s cock slip from his lips, a drop of precum smearing his chin. He scrambled to his nightstand, digging through for the bottle of lube buried beneath the random assortment of junk. He cursed and muttered until he finally found it, but when he spun around the sight he was met with made his heart stop. John was on his knees, hips canted back and face buried in the pillows. Presenting for Roger. 

Despite the unbelievable eroticism of the image before him, Roger was struck with a shockingly strong wave of emotion. Here was an alpha, not only letting him take the lead, not only letting him top, but actually presenting for him. As if he were the alpha, and John the omega. Roger was moved by the gesture, his heart feeling fit to burst. 

“Roger,” John whined, turning to stare at him with wide, pleading eyes. Roger’s hands shook as he knelt on the bed behind the younger man, running a hand up and down his back.

“John… you don’t have to do this.”

“I want to. Please, Rog. We decide who and what we are.” John turned his head, looking over his shoulder. His face was flushed, but there was no uncertainty in his expression. “Please. Alpha.”

“O-omega. Jesus Christ...”

John’s eyes rolled back, his hips rocking backwards. Roger quickly lubed up a finger and pressed it against Johns entrance. He hesitated, rubbing John’s back with his free hand, before slipping his finger into the tight heat. John drew in a breath and Roger froze, hoping he wasn’t hurting him, but then John moaned and pushed back. Roger let his finger slide in the rest of the way, waiting a moment before dragging it out and pushing it back in. He kept a slow pace, leaning over john and kissing his lower back.

“Doing so well, John. Taking my finger so well. Are you ready for another yet? It’s alright if not.”

“Yes, Rog, please,” John replied without skipping a beat

Roger nodded and added a second finger, scissoring them slowly. He circled John’s inner walls, seeking out the bundle of nerves he knew would make the younger man feel so good. He knew the instant he found it, the man beneath him keening and shaking. Roger smiled and rubbed the pads of his fingers over the spot, kissing and nibbling John’s cheeks.

“Another, Roger, please,” John panted. Roger nodded and pulled his fingers out, adding a bit more lube before pressing three against his opening. He moaned at how tight John was as he spread his fingers, opening him up. He couldn’t even imagine how it’d feel on his cock, but he would know soon enough.

“So good, baby,” he murmured. “So tight. Can’t wait to be inside you.”

“Need you,” John whined. “Alpha! Need you, please fuck me alpha!”

Roger felt he could almost climax from that alone. No one had ever called him that before, for obvious reasons, but it sent a shockwave of pleasure through him. He pulled his hand back and wiped it on the blanket, then lubed up his cock. Being an omega meant he wasn’t very big, but it was still thicker than his three fingers together had been. He held John’s hip as he lined up, leaning over him to kiss the space between his shoulder blades.

“Fuck me, alpha,” John whined, looking over his shoulder.

“Omega,” Roger moaned as he pushed in to the hilt. He gasped at the vice-like grip surrounding him, made even more pronounced as John clenched and shivered.

Roger leaned his forehead against John’s back, a sheen of sweat breaking out on both. He held still, afraid he’d come too fast if he tried to move yet. But after a few long moments he pulled his hips back, before snapping them forward again.

“Rog!” John cried out, and the blonde froze, brushing the hair from John’s face. “No! Don’t stop, please Rog…”

“Alright, love, I won’t.” The petname slipped out before Roger even realized he was saying it, but John practically purred in response. A smile far too innocent for the situation played on Roger’s lips. He kissed John’s neck as he started to thrust into him, slowly at first but picking up speed. The bed started to rock, the headboard tapping the wall to a steady beat.

“Don’t… speed up,” John panted, and it took Roger a moment to see the teasing smirk. He leaned down and bit John’s shoulder, making him cry out. “Alpha, please touch me!”

Roger reached down and wrapped a hand around John’s thick cock, stroking in time with his thrusts. He could feel the alpha’s knot inflating, and gripped it with his fingers. His own inner omega instincts thrummed at this, a deep-seated craving in his belly, but he focused on how good it felt to be inside John, and how hot and heavy the cock in his hand was.

“I’m going to come, Roger… Alpha…”

“I am too. Such a good omega, taking my cock. You want me to fill you up, baby?”

“Yes! Please fill me up, knot me alpha!”

Roger felt a twinge of sadness at that, knowing it was something he could never offer, but he quickly shoved the thought aside. He laid his chest on John's back and fucked him with deep thrusts, wrapping both hands around his knot and squeezing.

“Come for me, John.”

“Roger!” John screamed, his back arching as shot after shot of come streaked the blanket beneath him. Feeling him let go tipped Roger over the edge as well, his cock spasming as he filled his lover. They stayed like that for a few minutes, shivering and gasping for breath, before Roger slipped out and collapsed to the side.

“That was bloody amazing,” he panted, his head flopping to the side to look at John. 

“It really was,” he agreed, a dreamy smile on his lips. His hips twitched and Roger’s eyes were drawn downward. “It’ll go away in a bit,” John explained with a lazy wave of his hand. He reached out to touch Roger’s cheek; the omega covered his hand with his own, turning to kiss his palm.

“Thank you,” he whispered. 

“It’s like I said, we are who and what we choose to be. If you tell me you’re an alpha, then that’s what you are to me.”

Roger searched his eyes. He’d never felt like this before; his heart felt like it was shattering and mending itself all at once. He rushed forward and pressed their lips together in a brief but passionate kiss.

“And if I want to be _your_ alpha?” He held his breath, feeling more vulnerable and exposed than he ever had in his life. John’s eyes often shifted between green and grey, but right know they shone a beautiful, glossy emerald as they bore into Roger’s.

“Then I’m your omega,” he replied, his voice trembling. Roger laughed, his own eyes stinging with unshed tears as he pulled John close, face buried in his shoulder. For the first time, he felt like he was exactly where, and what, he was always meant to be.


	5. Chapter 5

“So 1974 has been a busy year for you, hasn’t it?”

Roger took a drag of his cigarette and looked across the table at the young woman. She was a redhead with too much makeup that reeked of omega. She had to be inexperienced, with such a vague question, and he heard his bandmates shift uncomfortably beside him.

“Indeed it has,” Freddie answered. “Touring all spring, writing and recording in the summer and fall, and of course still playing shows in between. We’re all positively knackered, but such is the way of rock and roll.”

“But it isn’t all work, surely you have hobbies. Tell me, Brian, what’s your favorite way to unwind?”

“Er, well… we actually all enjoy playing Scrabble together.” Brian plastered on a civil smile, but Roger noticed the slight crease to his brow. “Fred and Roger are the best at it; they’re always trying to show us up.” 

Roger chuckled and took another pull from his smoke; beside him, John sipped his coffee. Beneath the table, Roger brushed their knuckles together, and smiled when his boyfriend let their fingers interlock.

“Funny enough, since he’s the most educated out of us,” Freddie piped up. “Studying for his doctorate in, oh what was it again?”

“Interplanetary Dust,” Roger answered, smiling at the guitarist, who seemed to be slowly losing his patience. “He’s brilliant, even if we don’t understand a lick of what he goes on about sometimes.”

“That’s fascinating,” the journalist said, though her tone was a shade too placid to be taken seriously. “Now, let’s talk romance. You’re all becoming quite popular with the ladies. Any keepers, or are any of you already sworn off?”

“We don’t like to kiss and tell, darling,” Freddie answered for the group. Roger’s lips curled into a sly smile around his cigarette, and he brushed his knee against John’s. 

“Rumors have it a couple of you are already paired off,” the journalist piped continued, looking at the drummer and bassist. “Possibly with each other. Any comment on that, Roger?”

“I’m sorry, I thought we were here to discuss the new album,” Brian spoke up, his tone polite but clipped. “Not share gossip, so if you’ve got any questions about the music?”

Roger looked over his shades at the lady. He opened his mouth to snap out a snarky reply, but he felt John squeeze his hand He looked at his boyfriend, who shrugged and smiled, with a softness in his eyes that made Roger’s heart flutter. Roger squinted at him, but John nodded, thumb brushing his knuckles. 

“It’s alright, Bri,” the drummer said quietly, not looking away from his boyfriend. He took a deep breath, then smiled at the interviewer. “Not that it’s anyone’s business but our own, but yeah, it’s true. We’ve been together nearly a year now.” He brought his and John’s joined hands up to rest on the table, nearly laughing at the way the girl’s eyes bulged.

Out of the corner of his eye, Roger saw Brian duck his head and plaster on a tight-lipped smile. He always got a little out of sorts whenever Roger and John got too showy with their relationship; the guitarist never once said anything, but Roger was pretty sure he understood why. He’d thought to talk to him about it dozens of times, but what was there to say? He and John loved each other, and there didn’t seem to be any signs of that changing any time soon.

“Really!” the reporter said, sitting forward. “How romantic! Now I know it’s not polite to ask,” she said in a sing-song tone that made it painfully obvious she was going to ask anyway, “But John _is_ awfully quiet, while Roger is so… well, the dynamic does seem to speak for itself. Alpha, and omega?” she said, pointing at Roger, and then John.

The couple shared another look. Roger wasn’t sure what to say; technically it was the other way ‘round, but that was how they chose to see themselves, and each other. Thankfully, John spoke up for him.

“Every relationship is different, and they all require effort from both parties. We’ve never bought into the idea of one person being superior or inferior to the other.”

“Of course,” the girl said with a patronising tone. “But there are still… differences.”

“My dear,” Freddie spoke up. “If you’re asking which one of them has the bigger cock, I think you’ll have to buy them a drink first.”

The girl’s face turned almost as red as her hair, and she stared down at her notepad for a minute. Roger bit his cheek to keep from chuckling; he made a mental note to thank Fred for the save.

“Last question on the subject,” she said; Brian muttered something under his breath, and Roger saw him roll his eyes. “Are you two formally Mated?”

“Alright, I think we’re done here,” Brian said, shoving his chair back as he stood. “Thank you so much for your time, miss, I’m sure whatever rag you’re from will love to hear about the new album.”

Roger sighed and stubbed out his cigarette. He, John, and Freddie thanked the reporter and followed Brian out of the coffee shop, Freddie’s assistant falling in line next to the singer.

“That went well,” he quipped, passing Fred his jacket. 

“Oh shove it, Prenter,” Brian snapped. “And by the way Rog, thanks so much for encouraging her.”

“Oi, what’re you getting on me for? She’s from 19 Magazine, what the hell did you expect?”

“It does seem like an odd choice for an interview,” John said, side-eyeing Paul. “A bit beneath us, perhaps?”

“Teens buy records,” Paul replied, not bothering to look at the bassist. “You want to sell to teens, you interview with teen magazines.”

\---

The whole rest of the day, Roger thought about the last thing the interviewer had asked. Even though he and John had been together for almost a year, they’d never really discussed the issue of becoming Mated, and for a very simple reason. Mating, the official, biological kind, involved one marking the other, and for reasons science had yet to explain, that only worked one way. Even in the case of True Mates, which were rare enough for their very existence to be debatable, it had to go both ways. An omega simply couldn’t mark an alpha - like pregnancy, it just didn’t work that way. And for all their talk of not caring about labels, the cold, hard fact was that Roger was still physically an omega.

It wasn’t that Roger didn’t want that with John; he absolutely did. But like their first failed night together, it would mean Roger facing his true nature head-on, in spite of years of fighting against it. He wasn’t sure he was ready to give that up just yet. And what if John changed his mind? Mating was forever, there was no way to undo it. Even marriages could be ended, but mating involved permanently linking one person to another, on a very real, physical level.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Roger looked over at John, drawn from his pondering. They were in their usual spot on the couch, Roger’s head in John’s lap while his boyfriend stroked the blonde’s hair. Fred was at his piano, picking away at a melody, and Brian was curled up in his armchair, reading one of his dauntingly long books on the cosmos.

“Just thinking about what that bird asked,” Roger replied. He glanced at Brian; the guitarist was very still, his face hiding behind his book. Roger felt a twinge of guilt, and once again promised himself he’d talk to his friend, for sure this time. It would have to wait though, as John was nudging him to his feet. “Let’s turn in, and then we can talk, yeah?”

“Of course.” John nudged Roger off his lap and stood, taking his hand. 

“I think I’ll go for a stroll down to the pub,” Freddie said. “Care to come with, Bri?”

“Yes please,” Brian replied, his face still shielded. Anyone who hadn’t known him for as long as Roger had might’ve missed the slight tremor to his voice. 

“Come, love,” John said, tugging Roger’s hand. Roger looked back at Brian, but it was clear he wasn’t budging until Roger was gone. The drummer sighed and followed his boyfriend to their bedroom. They went through their nightly routine, then curled up under the covers, Roger’s head on John’s chest.

“Alright, what’s on that pretty mind of yours?” John asked. Roger worried his lip between his teeth for a moment, drawing a fingertip up and down John’s bare chest.

“About the interview today. You sure you’re alright with coming out like that?”

“You mean coming out as gay, or as yours?”

“Both, I guess?” 

“Honestly, I never really cared either way. I’m not one to flaunt, but I’m not ashamed, either. Why, do you regret it?” John asked, frowning suddenly.

“Course not. I’m proud to be yours.” Roger leaned up for a kiss, his fingers winding through John’s auburn waves. “I was more thinking about the other thing she said, though.”

“About which one of us is the alpha? Roger, you know I’ve never cared about that either.”

“No, not that. Well, sort of.” Roger frowned and sat up, shifting to face his boyfriend. “The last bit. About us being Mated.”

“Oh,” came John’s quiet reply. “That. Well… I know we’ve never really talked about it.”

“I know. Can we, though? I think I’d like to.”

John stared at him for a long moment, lower lip between his teeth. Seconds ticked by, and Roger swore he could feel his heartbeat stuttering.

“You’d like to talk about it? Or…”

Roger realized his words could’ve been taken either way. But as he looked at John, he felt nothing but devotion for the man before him. He was in love, hopelessly, desperately, and he never wanted it to end.

“Being with you… You know I’ve always…” Roger frowned and looked down, pulling at a loose thread on the blanket. “I think I had it all wrong. What it means to be an omega, that is. I used to think it was like a totem pole, with alphas at the top, and omegas at the bottom. No pun intended,” he added with a smirk that his boyfriend copied. “But it’s not like that at all. It’s like… it’s like music. Like drums and bass, for example. Maybe that’s a crap analogy, but anyway, my point is, one isn’t any better or worse, or more or less important than the other. You need both to make good music.”

“I think I understand,” John said. Roger looked up, and saw his boyfriend’s eyes glistening. 

“I guess what I’m trying to say is, I am what I am. And you are who you are. Hell, we practically fall into the old roles without trying. You keep opening doors for me, no matter how many times I tell you not to.” Both men chuckled at that, and John nodded; he smoothed a hand down Roger’s chest, settling over his heart.

“So, if I’m an omega, at least I’m _your_ omega. That is… if you’ll have me.”

“I’ve been having you for a year now,” John teased, and Roger gave him a shove, his cheeks unusually pink.

“You know what I mean, you prat. I’m trying to ask you…” He paused, for what felt like the dozenth time, and took a deep breath. “Would you… mark me?” 

“I think… well, I know what I’d like to say. But,” he paused, and Roger’s heart stopped. “Don’t give me that face, I’m not saying no. I just think it might be a good idea to think it over a bit. Both of us. This is a big decision, after all.”

“It’ll take a few days for my heat to kick in.” Roger ducked his head again, his cheeks turning a deeper shade of red. “Been a long time since I’ve had one. 

“I’ll be there to help you through it either way. And you’ll have your answer then. Is that alright?”

Roger smiled and nodded, and settled into John’s side again. He knew John, knew he could be spontaneous and impulsive, but never about things that really mattered. But he was confident things would work out. He placed a kiss to John’s heart and closed his eyes, falling asleep in his boyfriend’s - soon to be Mate’s - arms.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delayed posting! I've had some really shitty stuff happen this past week. But I'm... well, whether I'm okay or not doesn't really matter. I'm alive. Anyway, HUGE thanks to NightOfTheLand, my biggest cheerleader (and essentially co-author)! You keep me motivated, and this story wouldnt be nearly as awesome if it wasnt for you. Thanks. Enjoy!

“Roger and I have something to discuss.”

Everyone stopped eating their supper and looked at John; Roger cleared his throat and nodded.

“We’ve talked about it, and, well…” Roger looked at his boyfriend, who gave a supportive smile. “We’re becoming Mated.” 

A clatter rang out in the small kitchen as Brian’s fork dropped onto his plate. Roger’s eyes snapped to the guitarist, but his head was bowed, a curtain of hair shielding his face.

“That’s simply wonderful, dears,” Freddie said, leaning over to touch John’s arm. “I’m so happy for you. _We’re_ happy for you,” he added, casting an uneasy glance at Brian. The mop of curls bobbed slightly, but he stayed otherwise still.

“Thanks,” Roger quietly replied. “Um, anyway… I stopped taking my blockers a couple days ago, so…”

“We thought it best to warn you, if you wanted to maybe take a weekend holiday?” John suggested; he and Freddie both looked at Brian.

“Of course,” the singer said quickly. “It’ll be fun, Brian! Just the two of us, our own little songwriter’s retreat. Doesn’t that sound lovely?”

The man nodded again. The air was thick and silent as a tomb. Somewhere in the flat next door, someone coughed.

“Think I’ll turn in,” Brian said finally, his voice eerily calm. All eyes were on him as he stood and set his plate in the sink, then walked to his room and shut the door with a quiet click. 

“He’ll be alright, darlings. Just give him time.” Fred smiled at them both, then cleaned his place and retreated to his room as well.

“I don’t pretend to know your history with him,” John said slowly. “But there clearly is some. Maybe you should talk to him, one on one.”

“What would I even say? ‘Hey mate, I know you’ve had some kind of crush on me for a while, but I just don’t think of you like that’? I’m sure that’ll fix him right up.”

“Roger, please. He’s been your friend a lot longer than I’ve known you, and I’d hate to be the one to tear you two apart. Just be honest with him. He’ll understand.”

“I hope so,” Roger sighed.

“Go on. I’ll clean up here, then wait for you in the bedroom. Take as long as you need.”

Roger heaved a sigh and kissed John’s cheek, then made the long, slow walk to Brian’s bedroom. He was looking forward to this about as much as a root canal, but he knew John was right. This was an important decision in his life, and it wouldn’t be fair to not consider Brian’s feelings. That was just it, though. Roger had no clue what Brian’s feelings really were. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, but they’d never talked about it. He’d put it off too long, he supposed.

“Brian?” he said quietly, knocking on the closed door. “Can I come in?”

“Shouldn’t you be with John?” came the muffled reply. 

“Later. C’mon Brimi, let me in.” Roger held his breath as the seconds passed by in silence. Finally he heard a shuffle, and then the lock clicked and the door opened a crack. He pushed it open to see Brian shuffling back to his bed and laying down, facing away. Roger closed the door behind him, then sat next to his friend. 

“Been a while since we’ve been in bed together,” Roger said; Brian groaned and gave a half-hearted kick. “Sorry. Not the best timing, huh?”

“You’re usually so good with timing.” Brian let out a puff of air that was almost a chuckle.

“Brian, what’s wrong? Do you not like John? Do you think he’s not right for me? Or that I’m not right for him?”

“It’s nothing,” Brian sighed. “I’m… I’ll be fine.”

“You’re almost as bad a liar as me. Look, I know you and me…” Roger frowned and looked down at his hands. “We’ve had some really good times. Been best mates since I first auditioned, and had to explain tuning drums. And… and there were plenty of times when we… helped each other out, yeah? But that was… that’s all it was, just helping each other. Being there for each other, through the good and the bad. Right?” 

He turned his head to look at Brian, who just laid there on his side, stiff as a board. Roger would almost think he’d fallen asleep if not for the quiet sniffle. His heart sank at that tiny sound, things coming into focus.

“Or… maybe it wasn’t just that for you. Shit…” Roger groaned and leaned forward, head in his hands. “You should’ve said something,” he whispered. “Told me. Maybe…”

“Maybe what?” Brian asked, his voice trembling and wet. “Maybe you’d leave the first man you’ve ever truly loved, who loves you just as much, to spare your friend’s - your _brother’s_ feelings?” He sighed, his shoulders shaking. “I’ll get over it,” he added quietly. 

“I don’t want you to just get over it. I want you to be happy. Because yeah, you’re my brother. Except not really, because yeah, we’ve had fun getting each other off, and maybe sometimes I do miss that a little. Look, I’m sorry, I really am, and maybe in another life things would be different. But just because I don’t love you the same,” he winced at the way Brian’s shoulders immediately hunched, but pushed on. “Doesn’t mean I don’t love you. You’re a part of my life, a part of me. I’d sooner chop off both my hands then give you up. So, if me being Mated with John makes you that unhappy… then I won’t.”

Brian was silent for a long time. Roger had meant it, though; it would hurt like hell to give John up, but Brian had been in his life first. Finally, Brian rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling.

“I’ve never seen you as happy as you are with him. I’d never forgive myself if I took that away. Go. Be with your Mate.”

“Promise you’ll be okay?”

“Just go, Roger. Please.” Brian’s voice was strained, and he failed to hide another sniffle. But what was Roger going to do, argue with him until they were both miserable? He already had a headache from his oncoming heat, and staying next to Brian when his hormones were starting to go berserk would only make things worse.

“Thank you,” he said, touching his friend’s shoulder. “I’ll see you in a couple days, yeah?”

Brian sniffled again. Roger waited for him to say something, but after a few seconds of silence, he stood and headed for the door. At the last moment he turned, and saw Brian hugging a pillow to his chest. The one Roger had just been sitting against. His heart ached, but Brian would be fine, he was sure. He had to be sure.

When he got back to his and John’s room, he leaned back against the door and let out a slow breath.

“Didn’t kill each other, I see,” John quipped, looking up from his book. Though he teased, his eyes held nothing but sincerity. Roger crossed the room and flopped onto the bed, curling into his boyfriend’s side. He could feel the exhaustion setting in as his body prepared for the oncoming trial.

“I wish… Oh hell, I don’t know.” Roger groaned and buried his face in John’s chest, while slender fingers combed through his hair and scratched his scalp. “I wish I could make him happy.”

“Are you happy? Because he’s a good friend, but to me, you’re the only one that truly matters.”

Roger looked up at John, the younger man’s brow creased. Roger reached up to cup his boyfriend’s cheek. He did wish he could make his friend happy, but this man, this adorable, perfectly imperfect man with eyes like a summer storm and a smile that made Roger’s heart soar like a bird… This was the man Roger wanted to connect his life to.

“I love you,” he whispered, kissing John’s heart. 

“I love you too, Roger. Rest now, you’re going to need your energy.”

\-----

The heat was unbearable. Roger woke up groaning and drenched in sweat, his head feeling like it was in a vice. His body ached, a burning need that drowned out almost all rational thought. He could barely see straight as he cracked his eyes open, reaching blindly across the bed for the body that should’ve been there.

“Alpha,” he moaned, his back bowing and arching in waves. “Alpha,” he whined again, louder.

“I’m here,” came John’s voice beside him, dark and thick with something Roger hadn’t heard from the slight man before. He inhaled deeply, and the air reeked of alpha scent; he moaned, his hips grinding against the mattress, and felt slick leaking down the backs of his thighs. 

“Alpha please. Need you.”

“I know, love, I know. Fred and Brian are gone, we have the place to ourselves. It’s just you and me.” 

Roger felt the bed shift and immediately clamored over to his lover, nuzzling his neck. More slick poured from him as he breathed in John’s scent. He felt nimble fingers tugging down his soaked drawers, and hesitantly slipping between his cheeks. He drew in a sharp breath, lucid enough to know it’d been a long time since anyone had touched him there, and the first time for John.

“Are you sure you want this, Roger? It’s not too late to back down.”

“Want it,” the blonde replied, reaching a hand into John’s hair and pulling him down for a kiss. “Want you. Alpha, please, knot me. Mark me.”

“I need to know you really want it, and you’re not too far gone yet.” John pulled back and looked into Roger’s eyes; Roger struggled to clear his mind for just a moment. 

“J-john,” he managed to stutter out. “Mark me. Make me yours.”

John’s steely eyes searched Roger’s deep blues for a moment, then he nodded. Their lips crashed together in a desperate kiss, hands roaming. The blankets were tossed aside, and two moments later they were both undressed, Roger on his hands and knees. John ran his hands up and down Roger’s thighs and back, making the omega whine and cant his hips further.

“Alpha, please, need your knot.” The tiny part of Roger’s mind not clouded over with lust shuddered at how needy he sounded, but he was much too far gone to care. He loved John with all his heart, his mind, and his body. This was just the natural progression of that love. He trusted him completely.

“My beautiful omega,” John purred, trailing one calloused fingertip over Roger’s leaking hole before pushing in. Roger gasped, his hips pushing back almost instantly. John leaned over him, kissing his back and shoulders as he started to slide his finger in and out. He added a second, and Roger winced a bit at the stretch; the slick and the heat helped ease the pain, but it was still something he wasn’t used to. John kept whispering soft, encouraging words as he stretched Roger open; he was up to four when Roger couldn’t stand the wait any longer. 

“Please fuck me alpha! Need your knot, please!”

“You sure you’re ready, omega? You sure you want your alpha’s cock?” John’s voice was almost unrecognizable, so dark and threatening. Roger moaned low in his throat and nodded, pushing back against his lover’s hand.

“Please,” he begged, tears rolling down his cheeks. His omega instincts cried out, panicking that he wasn’t presenting well enough, or that he was inadequate in some way, otherwise why wouldn’t his alpha be fucking him already? But then he felt the tip of John’s cock pressed against his entrance, thick and hot, and he let out a cry of relief.

“Just relax, love,” John whispered, stroking Roger’s hair with one hand, the other on his hip. “This might hurt still.” He thrust forward a bit, and bloody hell he was big. Roger hissed at the pain, but he didn’t care, he needed his alpha’s knot. The hunger inside was consuming him, and only one thing would sate it. With a primal growl, John grabbed Roger’s hips and pulled back, impaling him on his large alpha cock.

“Alpha!” Roger cried out, his back arching. John gave him a minute to adjust, both of them panting heavily. 

“Omega,” he breathed, kissing Roger’s shoulder. “My omega, my love. You feel so perfect.”

“Th-thank you, alpha. Please, please fuck me know. Need your knot.”

John kissed his shoulder one more time, then pulled back, thrusting in again. Slick gushed from around his cock, easing the burn. He pulled back again, thrusting faster this time. Over and over, picking up speed with every snap of his hips. Their voices harmonized as they moaned, Roger’s high and John’s low. Roger felt the fire inside his belly being stoked as his first climax approached. He could feel John’s knot starting to inflate, and he struggled to push back against it.

“Easy, love,” John said, rubbing Roger’s back. “Let it happen. Don’t want you hurting yourself.”

“Need it so bad,” the omega whined. 

“I know you do. I’ll give it to you, I swear. Sit up for me, love, can you do that?”

Roger nodded and moved his hands from the bed beneath him, to the headboard in front. John wrapped a strong arm around his midsection, holding him upright. He brushed the hair off Roger’s neck and started planting kisses all up and down. Roger hissed and whimpered, leaning his head to the side.

“Please,” he whined quietly. “Mark me, alpha.”

“I will, omega. You’re all mine, no one else’s. I want everyone to know.” John’s knot pushed against Roger, starting to slip inside. A few more hard thrusts, and finally it pushed past the ring of muscle, filling Roger to the brim. At the same time, John sank his teeth into his lover’s neck, squeezing him tight. Both men shivered, and Roger cried out as the connection took hold; the shock of it sent them both over the edge, Roger coming untouched, and John spilling his seed into his Mate. They held still, both shivering and soaked with sweat, until they collapsed in a heap to the bed.

“My good omega,” John sighed, lapping at the mark forming on Roger’s neck. “Perfect omega. My Mate.”

“M-my Mate,” Roger said, arching his head back and capturing John’s mouth in a passionate kiss. He felt John wipe the tears from his cheeks, and sighed happily. The fire in him had been quenched, now a quiet glow that settled somewhere near his heart. He could feel the shift in him, and between them; they were connected now, their lives forever entwined.

“I love you, Roger. More than you could ever know.”

“Love you, John,” Roger slurred, exhaustion taking him under. He felt his Mate’s cock twitch, another rush of warmth filling him and making him gasp. John kissed and nuzzled his neck, petting his hair and humming quietly. Roger knew it’d be a long couple of days, but John would be there, as promised. They couldn’t get married legally, but that didn’t matter. They were together now, forever, til death did them part.


	7. Chapter 7

“Anniversaries are a funny thing,” Roger said, taking a drag off his cigarette. He was sitting between John’s legs, his back resting against his Mate’s chest. “Like, do we celebrate when we started dating? Or that talk we had a few days later? Or should we really count when you Marked me?”

“Feeling yourself again?” John chuckled. It’d been a rough heat, lasting nearly three days this time. It always seemed worse when they had to put it off for a while. Roger took his blockers when they were on tour or busy recording, but most of the time now when they were home, he didn’t bother.

“More or less.” Roger held the lit cigarette up over his shoulder, letting John take a drag. “At least they’re not that far off from each other. We could split the difference, if you don’t feel like picking one. Or we could just celebrate the in-between, make it a whole holiday.”

“Whatever you like,” John chuckled, stroking his omega’s hair. The two of them sighed happily, basking in the afterglow. “The date’s not important. Whether we count one year or two, or the four since we met, they’ve been the happiest of my life. I love you,” he said quietly, kissing Roger’s Mark.

“Love you too,” Roger replied, turning his head to kiss his Mate’s lips. Suddenly his stomach rumbled warningly, and he pulled back, his eyes wide. “Oh god,” he muttered, before darting to the loo, dropping his cigarette on the way. John quickly stubbed it out and chased after his Mate, pulling his hair back just before the blonde emptied the contents of his stomach into the bowl.

“F-fuck,” he stuttered when he was done, his teeth chattering. John’s brow was creased with concern as he flushed and grabbed a wet rag, wiping Roger’s mouth.

“What is it, what’s wrong?”

“Dunno. Just feel funny.” Roger pulled his knees up to his chest, rocking back and forth for a bit. His expression crumpled, his eyes pleading silently to John before he launched himself at the toilet again. John sighed and held his hair, rubbing his back. They stayed there until Roger was only heaving up bile and air. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he moaned pathetically. 

“Let’s get you to bed, love. You don’t feel warm. Maybe it was that takeaway, I thought it smelled a bit dodgy. Not ordering from there again, that’s for sure.”

Roger managed to chuckle, though it turned into a cough. John helped him to bed, slipping some boxers on him and tucking him in. He set a wastebasket next to the bed, and fetched a glass of water. 

“Try to get some sleep, Rog. Your body’s always a bit weak after a heat.” He pressed a kiss to Roger’s forehead and stroked his hair as the blonde started to fall back asleep.

When Roger woke up it was late in the afternoon. His stomach felt better, grumbling with hunger now. He smiled when he saw the sandwich waiting on the nightstand for him, along with a couple headache pills. He sat up and took the pills, and ate his lunch. He could hear his Mate’s voice in the living room, and padded out to meet him.

“Feeling better, love?”

“Worlds, thanks. You take such good care of me.”

“Well someone’s got to.” John chuckled and pulled Roger down for a kiss. 

The next day, Roger again woke up to bouts of nausea that disappeared after a nap. And the day after that. On the fourth morning of Roger emptying the previous nights dinner down the drain, John sat in bed, lip between his teeth. 

“You don’t think… No, I’m sure not,” he said after a moment.

“What?” Roger looked up from his book, frowning at his Mate. The younger man stared at him for a second.

“You don’t think it could be… well… I know we’ve been careful since that first time, but accidents happen, and…”

“Hold on a tic,” Roger said, his eyes going wide. “You’re not saying you think I could be…” He couldn’t bring himself to say the word.

“Well it is possible. But I’m sure it’s nothing.” John looked down, his smile a little less bright.

“Better not be,” Roger muttered, drawing his Mate’s attention.

“Right… the timing isn’t exactly ideal, what with the new album being nearly finished.”

“Not about the bloody timing,” Roger snapped. “I can’t be… I just can’t.”

“I’m sure you’re not,” John said, his tone placating. He placed a hand on Roger’s arm, and the blonde’s shoulders relaxed a little. He leaned his head on John’s shoulder, sighing heavily.

Another week went by, and Roger wasn’t feeling any better. The band was in the studio, laying down the final tracks for their next album. Roger was the last to show up, having to dart to the loo as soon as he and John had pulled into the lot.

“Morning, darling,” Fred said as the drummer entered the studio. “Heard you’ve been a bit under the weather, so sorry to hear. At least you’re not losing any weight. In fact, you look like you may be carrying a bit extra around the middle.”

Roger’s eyes went wide and he looked down at his stomach, then up at John.

“Oh don’t be ridiculous, Rog,” the bassist snapped, rolling his eyes. “You wouldn’t show for months, even if you were-” He cut himself off, but not before Freddie’s gasp of shock. Roger glared at his Mate, then turned to the other two.

“I’m _not_, alright? Whatever it was he was about to say, it isn’t true. It can’t be true.” He stared at his bandmates; Freddie stared back, eyes wide, but Brian’s head was down, fingers idly fiddling with the knobs on his guitar. Roger’s eyes stung with hot tears threatening to fall, and he growled and stormed back out of the room.

Less than a minute later he heard footsteps behind him, the familiar and usually calming scent of his slpha wafting down the hallway.

“Well that was very mature of you,” John snapped. Roger cringed, his inner omega yelping at being scolded. “I’m sorry,” John tried again, softer. 

“I can’t be…”

“Pregnant?” John said, suddenly behind Roger, a hand on his shoulder. Roger turned to his alpha, leaning his head on the younger man’s chest and letting himself be wrapped in strong arms. “Would it really be so bad?”

“Would it- John, it… I’m…” Roger pulled back to look at his Mate properly. “_I_ can’t be… that. Yeah, I’m your omega, but I’m not…”

“Not what? Not my beautiful, wonderful omega, who I’d love to have carry my pups someday?”

Roger’s eyes watered, and he shifted back a half-step further.

“John, I… I don’t know if I can. Emotionally, I mean. I’m not… I still don’t like being what I am. For you, of course, but in general? The thought of… that, it makes my skin crawl.”

“Oh.” John tried to hide the crestfallen expression, but Roger caught it, and his heart sank. “I… I didn’t realize you didn’t want… Not ever, Roger? You’ve never even considered it?”

“Not really. Before you, I didn’t think I’d ever hook up with an alpha at all.”

“And… since being with me? You still have no desire at all to have a family?”

“_You’re_ my family,” Roger said, touching John’s arm. “And I’m yours. Isn’t that enough? Aren’t _I_ enough?”

“That’s not fair,” John hissed, his eyes narrowing. “Anyway, doesn’t look like you’ve got much say in the matter, have you? If you are, you are, so maybe you’d better get used to the idea.”

Roger reeled back as if he was slapped, and he could see the immediate regret on John’s face. His alpha reached out to him, but he stepped back, shaking his head.

“I can’t. Not today. I’m going to the doctors to get an answer.”

“I’ll come along,” John said, but Roger shook his head, taking another step back. 

“Think I’d rather do this alone, thanks. I’ll be back later, and let you know what happened.” He turned around and left his alpha standing there in the hall, his tears holding back until he reached the car. He had a good cry, his emotions a mixed-up mess, until he was composed enough to drive to the closest medical clinic.

Three hours and a laundry list of embarrassing questions later, he had his answer. He didn’t know how to feel. Either way, one of them was getting hurt. The drive back to the studio seemed longer than usual, and yet far too short. He sat in the lot for God knows how long, burning through half a pack of cigarettes. 

Finally he steeled his nerves and walked inside. His bandmates were in the middle of a heated discussion, but all talking ceased when he entered the room. He shifted from one foot to the other, scratching the back of his neck. John looked to Fred, who nodded, then set down his base and hurried over to his Mate, leading him back out to the hall.

“I’m not pregnant,” Roger blurted out. He stared at the floor, not wanting to see John’s reaction. If that made him a coward, so be it. Seconds dragged on, the silence between them thicker than beef stew. Finally, he heard John let out a slow, shaking breath.

“I’m sorry,” the alpha said quietly, and Roger frowned. 

“What are you sorry for? You’re the one that wanted me to be.”

“I meant,” John said slowly, as if trying to curb his annoyance. “I’m sorry for fighting with you earlier. It wasn’t fair of me to just assume you wanted children, just because I do.”

“I’m sorry too,” Roger replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just… scary, you know? The thought of getting all fat, and having something _alive_ inside of you. And you know how I am. It’s easy to still pretend I’m not an omega, even when you’re screwing me. But that… there’s no hiding that.”

“Is that what this is about?” John asked softly. Roger looked up finally, and the concern he saw in his Mate’s eyes shook him. “You worrying that you won’t feel like yourself? Roger… You are who you are. And I love you.”

The two both breathed a sigh and leaned their foreheads against each other’s, arms wrapping around waists. 

“I love you too,” Roger said. “I’m sorry I can’t give you what you want.”

“It’s not your fault. I’d never want to force you into anything, not even that. Especially not that. But maybe… can we leave the option open to further debate? You don’t want pups now, and I have to respect that. But maybe, possibly, someday?”

“Maybe, possibly, someday,” Roger echoed, smiling a bit. “I can agree to that much.”

“And you _are_ enough, I promise. My omega.”

“My alpha.” Roger nuzzled John’s neck, smiling when his Mate did the same, kissing his Mark.

“So no baby showers yet?” Freddie said from the doorway, making them both jump. 

“Not yet,” John chuckled. He wrapped an arm around Roger’s shoulders and led him back to the studio. “But maybe, possibly, someday,” he whispered in Roger’s ear, making the blonde chuckle.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much for a posting schedule... sorry! Anyway, real quick I wanna say thank you to all my readers, especially those that leave comments - it really means a lot. Secondly, I once again wanna thank my brilliant collaborator, NightOfTheLand. Lastly, quick editing note - I changed my mind on whether or not to capitalize alpha/omega, so if theres any inconsistency there, that's why. Anywho, on with the show!

“Have you seen this shite?” Roger slapped the newspaper down on the kitchen table, making his flatmates jump. He paced back and forth like a caged tiger, until John pulled him down into his lap. Freddie pulled the paper towards him and started reading the article.

“It has been widely accepted that the powerhouse drummer and unassuming bassist of Queen are a Mated pair, with the dynamic seeming obvious to anyone with eyes. However, the happy couple were spotted out on the town this weekend, and Taylor looked a bit thick round the middle, more than usual. Could their hit song, Liar, hold some truth? Is Taylor secretly an Omega, and now in the family way? And if so, what does that say for Deacon? Is he being made a cuckold, or is there a darker, more sinful explanation? Stories of raging parties abound, thrown by their flamboyant frontman with increasing frequency. Only guitarist Brain May seems to be above it all, or perhaps he’s just not as interesting as his flashier friends.”

“Can you believe that? This is horse-shit! How can they get away with that? It's slander, disgusting, cheap slander!” Roger was fuming. Not only were they accusing him of getting fat - something he'd always been self-conscious of, but they were also accusing him of being unfaithful to his Mate. 

"And what was that but about 'darker explanations'? Do they think I'm just bending over for a line of alphas, giving 'em all a free pass to use me as they like?" Roger pulled at his hair, tears brimming in his eyes. This, this was why he hated what he was. Omegas were seen as less in control of their bodies, willing to submit and surrender to any alpha who wanted them.

“Relax, love,” John said, though his eyes were cold as steel. “It’s just tabloid gossip. Don’t pay it any attention.”

“And what was that crap about Brian?” Roger shouted, standing up again. “Of all the back-handed compliments. Freddie too. We’ve got to do something!”

“What exactly would you do?” Brian said, his eyes on the paper. “Charge in like a raging bull? That’ll surely change their minds.”

"Easy for you to be so blase about it, you're not the one being called a cheating whore!" Roger shouted at Brian, who turned away. Roger sighed and pulled at his hair again. It wasn't Brian's fault, he knew. One more thing to apologize for, he supposed. 

“You know what I’m going to do? I’m going to write an editorial."

"Oh yes, a nice little loveletter, that'll show them," Freddie laughed, but Roger shook his head and started searching the kitchen for paper and a pen. 

"You're damn right it will. The most scathing one I can manage. Just you wait, their fingers are going to burn from all the vitriol I’ll be spewing.” 

“You’re something else,” John said, smiling softly at his Mate. Roger found a notebook and a pencil and set down to write, grumbling to himself. He was more than a dumb omega; he was smart, and articulate, and he would prove it. For his sake, and for his Mate's, and his friends'. He wasn't what they said; he knew it, though their words clawed at his insecurities. He would prove it to them, and to himself.

Hours later, he was still at it. The sun had set, and he hadn’t bothered to turn on the light; John chuckled and flipped the switch, coming to stand behind his Mate.

“Come to bed, love,” he said, kissing the side of Roger’s neck.

“M’almost done,” Roger muttered, but his hand slowed as John nibbled on his Mark. “C’mon, let me finish.”

“You’ve got five minutes,” John purred in his ear. “Or I’m starting without you.”

Roger groaned, his hand stuttering. Most of his ire had burned out by now, and his head ached. He took a deep breath, letting his Mate's scent calm him. John chuckled and ran a hand through his blonde hair, then headed to their room. Roger sighed and added a few more lines, then scribbled his autograph and shut the book. He stood and stretched, his back stiff from sitting hunched over for so long.

After a quick stop at the loo, he finally joined John in bed, curling up to his alpha’s side. John kissed him gently, his hands running over Roger’s belly.

“You don’t think I’m getting fat, do you?” Roger felt silly even asking, but that part of the article still nagged at him.

“You’re not a skinny twenty-something anymore. Nothing wrong with that.”

“So you _do_ think I’m getting fat?” Roger frowned and sat up a bit. He'd expected comfort, not confirmation.

“Of course not,” John sighed, rolling his eyes. He slid down his Mate’s body, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake. When he reached Roger’s tummy, he looked up into his blue eyes. “And if you were, and it was because you were carrying our pups, then I definitely wouldn’t mind.”

“Not this again,” Roger groaned. In the year and some odd months since their pregnancy scare, almost every heat and sometimes in between, John found some way of mentioning his half-made promise.

“I’m just saying,” John continued, dragging his tongue over the soft flesh. “Seeing you round with our litter, life growing inside you that we created together… I can’t think of anything sexier.”

“You think me being all swollen like I’ve swallowed a beach ball would be sexy?” Roger's stomach turned at the mental image, and his headache returned with a deep, throbbing insistence. His Mate's touch suddenly started to feel less comforting, and more confining.

“Mhm,” John purred, nuzzling Roger’s belly. “I’d love to see you pregnant. All soft and full. Knowing I did that to you, knowing you love and trust me enough to let me do it. It’s a real turn-on.”

“Well I’m sorry my hangups are keeping you from your fantasy,” Roger snapped, rolling over and out of John’s reach. The alpha sighed heavily and touched Roger’s arm, but he pulled further away. He didn't want to fight, but it was looking inevitable.

“Yes, alright, fine. I enjoy thinking about my Omega, my mate, carrying my children. Suppose that makes me some kind of selfish prick, does it?” John said angrily, sitting up suddenly enough to shake the bed.

“You won’t let it go,” Roger groaned. “We’ve been over this how many times? I know I said maybe, but I didn’t think that meant you’d keep pestering me every few months!”

“Pestering!” John stood up suddenly, searching the room for his clothes. 

“What’re you doing, John?”

“Going somewhere where I can’t _pester_ you anymore!” he shouted; his eyes were wet with tears, and Roger felt a stab of guilt. He didn't regret the meaning behind his words, but maybe he'd been a bit harsh on the delivery.

“Look, I’m not telling you to leave. I just wish you’d lay off the baby talk.”

“Did you lie, Roger? When you said maybe, were you just saying that to shut me up? Because if you truly don’t ever want children, then I think…”

Silence hung between them, sharp and dangerous.

“Then you think what?” Roger asked quietly, his own eyes stinging. His blood ran cold at the implications of that unfinished sentence. “What, that if I can’t give you kids, then why are you wasting your time with me? Is that it?”

“I didn’t say that,” John replied quietly, looking away. Roger reeled back as if he'd been slapped.

“You didn’t have to. Maybe I do want kids, maybe I don’t, but if that’s all you want me for, then…”

“I have to go.” John sniffled and finished getting dressed. Panic gripped Roger’s heart, but his pride was too great. He felt like he was at war with himself, torn between taking it all back just to make John stay, and disgust at himself for wanting to roll over like a 'good omega'.

“My heat starts tomorrow,” he said, his voice wavering and his eyes stinging. “You said you’d always be there to help me through. So are we both liars, then?”

John froze in his tracks, hand on the doorknob, overnight bag clutched in his other fist. Roger held his breath, knowing this conversation had gone all kinds of wrong, but with no idea how to salvage it. Without another word, John slipped out the door. 

Roger stared for a long minute. Maybe John would change his mind, would come back and apologize for arguing, and kiss and hold his omega until they fell asleep in each other’s arms. But that didn’t happen. The only noise was the sound of Roger’s labored breathing. His fists shook at his sides, his teeth clenched, his eyes narrowed.

He'd left him. His alpha had left him, because he was a bad omega. Or was John a bad alpha? Both, neither? Did it matter? John was gone, and Roger had no idea when he'd be back. _If_ he'd be back. And it was his fault.

An animalistic growl tore through the room. Roger lashed out, knocking the lamp off the nightstand with a satisfying crash. He cursed and swore in three languages as he tore the room to bits, smashing every picture frame, knocking over the nightstand, and punching a hole in the closet door. He was vaguely aware of the tears blurring his vision and streaming down his cheeks, but they didn’t matter. He needed an outlet for his rage, and his poor room was the unwilling victim.

His tantrum finally ran its course, and he collapsed in a heap on the floor, curled into a ball. His body shook with sobs as he screamed into Johns pillow, clutched to his chest, until his throat was raw; his eyes burned, his tear ducts dry as sandpaper. 

This was what he deserved, he supposed. It was his fault after all, wasn't it? Omegas are supposed to serve their alphas, to give them pups. He was the broken one, the one who didn't fit the mould. He’d never been a good omega, so why should he deserve such a perfect alpha? And now he was gone, Marked but alone. Bad omega. The words echoed in his mind as his emotional outburst gave way to exhausting. Bad omega, bad omega...

\-----

Roger was in pain. His head, his fists, his stomach, everything ached. He was barely aware of where he was, or what had happened. All he knew was that he was cold and in pain, and worst of all, alone. Slowly, like things seen underwater, memories of the night before came back to him. He'd fought with John again, and John left. He was on the brink of his heat, and he'd told John, but John still left. He left him. His Mate left him.

“Roger? You alright?”

Roger looked up at the sound of Brian’s voice. He could barely keep his eyes open, the light streaming from the half-open curtains stinging his bloodshot eyes. 

“Brimi,” he croaked, his voice weak. He heard the door open, and then a muttured curse. 

“Good lord, Rog. What the hell happened?” 

“It hurts,” Roger sobbed, his shoulders shaking. “It hurts, and he said he’d be here, and he’s not. Bri… please… it hurts so bad…”

“Sh, Roger, it’s alright.” Brian knelt down, stroking Roger’s hair. Roger hummed and leaned into the touch. It wasn't his Mate, wasn't even an alpha, but he needed comfort, something. More memories reached him, older ones. Memories of him and Brian, years ago. Before John, before Queen. A time when it had just been them, two omegas who didn't need or want alphas. Who had been happy with each other.

“Please, Bri. You could… you could help. We’ve done it before, yeah?” Roger looked up at his friend, the need gnawing at his insides. “P-please, Bri. Help me?”

“Help you with- oh. Oh god. Rog…”

“Please!” Roger begged, clutching the front of Brian’s shirt. He could feel the slick gushing from him, could smell the stink of arousal coming from him… and from Brian. He remembered too, he had to. “I… I’ll return the favor. I swear, I’ll make it good for you too.”

“You don’t have to… Christ.” Brian sat back on his heels, head in his hands. “He’ll be back soon.”

“No, he won’t,” Roger wailed, shaking his head. He curled back in on himself, voices in his head whispering Bad Omega again and again. “He’s gone. He doesn’t want me.”

“That’s not true and you know it,” Brian said through gritted teeth.

“It is. He doesn’t want me cuz I won’t give him pups. I just… I need… I need you, Brian.” 

Roger reached out to clutch at Brian's shirt again. He could feel himself slipping, losing more of himself to his instincts with every second. Brian wanted him, he could smell it, and he wanted Brian. He'd made him feel good before, so good. He knew he could do it again.

Brian whined and looked at his friend, fresh tears making his blue eyes seem even larger than normal. 

“Fine. Let’s get out of here, though.” Brian stood and offered Roger a hand, pulling him to his feet. The blonde whimpered and leaned heavily against the taller man, who sighed and scooped him up into his arms, carrying him to his own bedroom. Before he could even set Roger on the bed, Roger was tearing at Brian’s clothes, practically ripping the buttons in his haste.

“Please, Bri. Need you to touch me.” Roger pushed Brian’s shirt off his shoulders and latched onto his chest, dragging his tongue and teeth across the taut skin. It was like returning to familiar ground, hid muscles remembering where Brian liked to be touched. He'd do better, he told himself, once his own edge was taken off. He tried to maneuver his body underneath his friends, pulling his hips down to grind against his own.

Brian said nothing, but kissed Roger’s neck, going right for the spot behind his ear he’d always loved. Brian was the only person besides John that knew Roger’s body so well; it was possible he knew even better, the way his long fingers ghosted down Roger’s body, knowing exactly where to grip and where to brush. Roger was a moaning, sweating mess, writhing under the taller Omega.

He reached his hands into Brian’s curls, pulling him down into a kiss. Brian froze, his eyes wide. He didn’t react, simply letting Roger kiss him for a moment.

“Please, Brimi,” Roger moaned, and Brian sat back, flipping the blonde over. 

Roger whined and canted his hips back, slick dripping down his thighs. His boxers were removed, and two slender fingers slid past his entrance. They sought out his prostate with well-practiced precision, making the younger man howl. A third was added, and then Roger’s vision went white as those fingers pumped in and out of him at a harsh pace.

“Yes, Bri. Harder, please, more. Need more.” Roger buried his face in the pillows, the pillows that smelled like Brian. He rocked his hips back against his friend’s hand, gasping when he felt a fourth finger being added. He cried out as those fingers stroked his prostate, making his thighs shake. An obscene amount of slick poured from him, the room filled with the sound of his moans and the slap of skin on skin. 

“Please, need more,” Roger begged, his voice turning more breath than word. His consciousness blurred, narrowing to the feelings if being touched. He felt a hand on his hip, pulling him back to meet each thrust. That same hand steadied him for a moment, while the tip of a cock pressed in alongside the fingers. He mewled and pushed back, desperately begging to be filled as he gave himself over to his base desires.

“Please, I’ll be so good for you, I promise, just please knot me, please!” Roger began to weep, desperate to have the hunger within him satisfied. The cock pressed against him slammed in, until he felt a solid body pressed against his backside. Still he pushed harder, the stretch close, but not enough. 

“Please knot me. Please… Alpha, please, I’ll be a good omega I swear.” _Bad omega,_ the voices whispered again. _Don't deserve his knot._ Roger sobbed and shook his head. "I'll be good. I'll be a good omega, I swear. Please alpha, please knot me."

The hand on his hip gripped tighter, stubby fingernails leaving little half-moons on his skin. Finally, the man behind him started to fuck him in earnest, fingers pressing against his prostate harder with every thrust. He cried into his crossed arms, begging his alpha over a d over to knot him. 

“S-so close, alpha, I’m so close, please touch me! I’ll be good I promise, I’ll do anything, I swear I’ll do anything you ask, just please knot me!”

The hand on his hip slid down, wrapping around his aching cock and pumping in time. At the same time, a thumb slipped into him, the entire fist wrapping around the cock and slamming into him. He needed his alpha, needed his Mate. Needed to please his Mate.

“John!” Roger screamed, his orgasm wracking his body. Every muscle went stiff, his eyes wide and unseeing, before he collapsed to the bed. Some fuzzy part of his mind heard sniffling, and then the covers were pulled up over him and the light turned out.

\-----

Brian sniffled loudly and leaned against the sink, staring at himself in the mirror. His eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, and he looked about ten years older than he should. He took a trembling breath, splashed some cold water on his face, and left the bathroom. Roger was still asleep in bed, exhausted from their third round. The setting sun cast an amber glow over his delicate features, and Brian felt another stab of pain in his chest. 

He padded out to the kitchen and started washing the few dishes in the sink. His mind was unusually silent, and for that he was grateful. He felt blissfully numb, all his raging emotions spent in the bathroom; his hand still showed the bite marks from where he’d tried to muffle his screaming sobs. But now there was nothing, a cold, hollow void where his heart should be. He hoped it would last.

The flat was silent. Fred was away visiting his family, and John… who knew where he was, when he was coming back, _if_ he was coming back. Brian would never forgive him for hurting Roger like this. 

“Roger!” 

Speak of the devil. The front door clattered open and John came barrelling in, calling his Mate’s name.

“He’s asleep,” Brian said quietly. He closed his eyes, his blood beginning to boil. “You should have been here.”

“I… I tried to get back. I swear I did. There was an accident, something went wrong on the tube, and…”

“You should have been here!” Brian yelled, whipping around. He felt tears stinging his already sore eyes, and his white-knuckled fists shook at his sides.

“Brian,” John replied, visibly shaken by the usually quiet man’s outburst. “I’m sorry.”

Acting completely on impulse, Brian cocked back and slammed his fist into Johns nose, hearing a sickening crunch. 

“He’s your fucking Mate! _Your_ Mate! He wanted you! He called for you!” Brian’s expression crumbled. 

“I deserved that,” John said, his voice muffled by the hand he held over his broken nose. “And worse, I’m sure.” He passed by Brian to the sink, wetting a cloth and dabbing it against his face. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry. Truly, I am.” He put a hand on Brian’s shoulder, but the taller man jumped back like he’d been burned. 

“Just go to him. But let me tell you right now.” Brian glared at John, his eyes burning. “If you ever, _ever_ hurt him like this again… I’ll kill you.”

John stared wide-eyed, and slowly nodded. Brian waited until he left before collapsing into a chair, his rage burned out. Ignoring the fact that John would be forgiven. Ignoring the added twist of the knife that it would happen in Brian’s own bed. Brian laid his head down, feeling exhausted, not even enough energy left to weep. He wished Freddie was there. Wished anyone was there. He’d never felt so alone.

\-----

“Roger?” John asked quietly. The blonde shifted, head turning towards his Mate’s voice. “Roger, I’m… God, I’m so sorry.” 

“John?” Roger forced his eyes open, and the hazy sight of his Mate came into view. Tear tracks lined his cheek, his nose looked wrong somehow, and his stormy eyes were red and glassy. Roger reached out and touched his cheek, and the Alpha leaned into the touch. For a moment, the omega was confused, but then he remembered. “You came back.”

“I did. I never should have left. God, Rog… I’ve been horrible. Can you ever forgive me?”

Roger shook his head, his own tears forming. He struggled to speak, his head still feeling full of cotton. His chest felt like there was a weight on it, squeezing the breath from his lungs.

“Not your fault. M’sorry. Bad omega.”

“No! God no. Good omega. Perfect omega.” John kissed the top of Roger’s head, and Roger breathed in his scent. “I’ll never leave you again, I swear. Please, Roger, please say you’ll forgive me.”

“Breed me,” Roger said weakly, and John jumped back, his eyes wide. “Want your pups. Love you so much. Need you. You want pups, I want pups. Please, alpha. Breed me.”

“Rog, love,” John sighed, stroking his Mate’s cheek. “You’re not yourself right now. You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“You don’t want to?” Roger asked, his voice sounding very small. He pulled back from John’s touch, curling into a tighter ball. “Messed up. Messed up bad,” he muttered. “Bad ‘mega. Alpha doesn’t want me anymore.”

“That’s not true!” John cried, a fresh wave of tears forming. “You’re the best omega! I’ve been a bad alpha, the worst. I’m so sorry, love. Of course I want pups with you still, but only if you want them. I don’t care if you don’t. I don’t care if you don’t ever. You’re all I need, I swear to you. You’re all I need, Roger.” He pressed his lips to Roger’s burning forehead, silently praying he hadn’t ruined it beyond repair.

“Missed you,” Roger sobbed, arms wrapping around his mate and holding tight as his weakened state would allow.

“I missed you too. So much.”

“What happened?” Roger asked, fingers brushing John’s bruised and crooked nose.

“Got what was coming to me.”

Roger’s eyes widened a fraction, then dropped; his lips curled into the faintest ghost of a smile for a moment. 

“Trashed our room,” he said with a guilty pout.

“I don’t care,” John said, brushing the hair from Roger’s face. “Let me take you to our bed, my omega.”

Roger nodded and let himself be helped to his feet. As they passed through the kitchen Roger stopped, looking at Brian.

“Be right there,” he told John; the younger man looked nervously between the other two, then nodded. Roger watched him go, then turned to his friend.

“Hey,” he said quietly. Brian lifted his head slightly to show he was listening, though his face was still hidden behind crossed arms. “I’m not all there still, but… John’s nose. Thought you were a pacifist?” He chuckled, and Brian finally peeked up over his arms, but still said nothing. His eyes were rimmed with red, and Roger felt another stab of guilt. He heaved a sigh and slipped into the seat next to him.

“Thank you. For being here for me, for helping me… for pushing him back to me. Cuz I know that’s what you did. I…” He let out another breath and wrapped an arm around Brian’s shoulders, and leaned his head against the pillow of curls. The other omega's scent was faint, but familiar. It reminded Roger of happier, simpler times. 

“You know I love you, matei. Always have, always will. You and me against the world, Brimi, no matter what else we have going on. We’ll be together til the end. Won’t we?”

Roger held his breath, but then, slowly, Brian reached over and covered Roger’s hand and gave a squeeze.

“Til the end,” he said, his voice barely audible, before pulling his hand back again.

Roger smiled and patted Brian’s shoulder as he stood up. He’d be alright; _they’d_ be alright. Whatever else happened, they would always have each other.

John was tidying up the room when Roger entered, and the omega’s heart sank with guilt yet again.

“Careful, love, there’s broken glass there. I’ll sweep it up in the morning.”

“M’sorry,” Roger mumbled, feeling like a child, but John shook his head.

“Don’t be. None of this is your fault; I pushed you to this. And I can’t forgive myself for it.” He picked up a broken frame, a picture of the two of them in Japan the previous year. 

“Come to bed?” Roger begged, holding his hand out. He could feel the next wave of heat coming, blood rushing from his head to his nether regions as he breathed in the scent of his alpha. John nodded and set the photograph on the nightstand, next to the cracked but still functional lamp. He took Roger’s hand, and the two of them laid down on the bed facing each other. 

Roger turned over, pressing back against John and grinding his hips. He felt his alpha’s cock start to harden, and whimpered at the trickle of slick beginning to leak from him. He heard John inhale deeply, and smiled.

“Breed me?” He asked again, lacing their fingers together.

“You don’t have to ask. I told you, I don’t care anymore.”

Roger turned his head and locked eyes with John, his stare intense.

“I know. But I thought about it, while I was under. And I’m asking you now, before I go under again. I want this, with you. Please, John. Breed me.”

John searched his eyes for a long moment. The room was silent apart from their shared breaths. Finally he smiled, and pressed his lips to Roger’s. The omega’s heart raced and he pushed back against his alpha. He laced their fingers together, then turned and started to get on his hands and knees, but John stopped him.

“No,” John said softly. “I’d like to see you.”

Roger’s eyes lit up, and John knew he’d made the right choice. He moved so Roger could roll onto his back, and settled between his legs, rocking their hips together.

“I love you, my omega,” he said, touching Roger’s face; the omega leaned into the touch, kissing his palm.

“I love you, my alpha.”

Roger closed his eyes as his mind fogged over, the last thought being that he was the luckiest man alive, to be surrounded by men who loved him. He swore to never take that for granted again.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay... again... A lot happens in this chapter. Like, a LOT. Enjoy?

It seemed a cruel joke of nature. Roger and John had fought over whether or not to have kids, almost broken apart over it even. But then, when Roger finally agreed that it was something he wanted, it started to look like it would never happen. Months went by, heat after heat, both natural and induced, with nothing to show for it. John tried to soothe the omega, but Roger could see the disappointment in his Mate’s eyes with every negative test.

“I think I might be broken,” Roger said, sniffling and leaning his head on John’s shoulder. John placed his tiles down, adjusting them after a bump in the road knocked them slightly askew.

“You’re not broken, Darling!” Freddie spoke up. “You’re wonderful, isn’t he, Deaky?”

“The most wonderful,” John said, stroking the blond’s hair. “It’ll happen. It’s the stress of touring, that’s all. And you being upset like this can’t be helping matters.”

“Exactly,” the singer agreed. “Oh! So sorry to interrupt, but John, I wanted to show you those lyrics I was working on the other day! I think I’ve had a break.”

“Yeah? That’s great, I’d love to see.” John grinned wide at Freddie. “Take over my turns for a bit, love?”

Roger nodded and leaned in when John kissed his cheek, and watched as the two slipped from the booth and headed towards the back of the bus. He sighed and looked at the board as Brian set down a word. Things between them had gotten worlds better, especially since the guitarist had met Kitty. Her name was actually Katherine, but she’d apparently earned the nickname as a girl; and to make it even more sickeningly sweet, Brian called her ‘his little Kitty Kat’.

The two had met at an afterparty a few months back; Roger had been pleasantly surprised to see Brian talking to the tiny redhead, both looking like they’d rather be anywhere other than the loud, flashy nightclub. He’d happened to see Brian kiss her cheek, and laughed when the poor thing nearly fainted. Apparently she was about as different from Roger as she could be; quiet, unassuming, and the first to blush at the slightest mention of anything naughty. He tried not to think too hard about why Brian would go for someone that seemed the complete opposite of him.

The couple had kept in close touch, speaking on the phone every other night since. Brian seemed happy, more than he had in a long time… since Roger had started dating John, the blond had realized, but tried to forget. It was the one bright spot keeping him from falling too deep into his own issues, the guilt of not seeming to be able to give anyone what they wanted gnawing at his insides.

“Doing anything fun on our day off tomorrow?” Roger asked. Brian’s eyes darted up, looking like he’d been startled from his thoughts.

“Might walk around, take some photos of the city. There’s a vintage camera shop I’d like to check out, too. You could come with, if you’d like?”

“That might be nice,” Roger replied with a half-hearted smile. “Need more film for my polaroid anyway. How’s Kitty doing?”

“Fine,” Brian said, smiling and blushing a little. “She’s nearly done with her final semester, so she’s been busy the past few days.”

“I’m really happy for you, Brimi. You deserve this.”

Brian’s smile lessened a bit, but he nodded, staring down at his tiles. He looked up, and Roger could see a shadow pass over his expression, but in a moment it was gone.

“Thanks, mate. And don’t worry; if it’s meant to be, it’ll be.”

Roger sighed and laid his head down again. 

\-----

The next day, Roger woke up with a start, sweat pouring down his face. His body burned, and his hands shook as he reached for his Mate beside him. This wasn’t the first time he’d had a faux-heat take him by surprise. It was a side effect of the heat-inducing pills he’d been taking lately, in his and John’s efforts to start a family.

“Alpha,” he moaned, and John was holding him in an instant, lips pressed against his Mark. In a flurry of hands and arms and legs they worked to undress each other, the scent of arousal hanging thick in the air. They could practically do this in their sleep at this point (and Roger had been tempted to offer that, too); Roger hardly needing any preparing as John’s fingers spread his slick and stretched him open easily. 

“Please breed me,” Roger whined into John’s neck. This time felt different somehow, more intense than any of their previous attempts. John held him tightly as he buried himself in his omega’s tight heat. His thrusts were brutal, his knot pressing insistently against Roger’s entrance. 

“I will, love. I promise, I will.” 

Roger caught John’s eyes, his own baby blues watering. He needed this, needed to have John’s pups. If he couldn’t, what good of an omega was he?

“I’m sorry,” he cried, burying his face in his alpha’s neck. “I’m sorry I’m broken. I can’t give you what you want. I’m a failure of an omega.”

“Listen to me,” John said sharply, the Command making Roger’s head snap back “You are not broken. You are the most wonderful, beautiful, perfect omega an alpha could possibly wish for. And if we never, ever have children, I will still love you with every fibre of my being.”

Hot tears spilled down Roger’s cheeks, his heart bursting with love. He kissed his Mate desperately, clinging to John as he started thrusting into him again. John’s mouth latched onto his Mark, and Roger cried out at the joy and pleasure the sensation caused. As he felt his alpha’s knot push home, he sank his own teeth into his Mate’s neck to silence his screaming climax.

Colors burst behind his eyelids, brighter than the brightest fireworks he’d ever seen. Electricity surged through his veins, his and John’s synchronized heartbeats thundering in his ears. He felt like his heart was exploding and imploding at once. Every nerve vibrated, and his mind reached a sort of nirvana the likes of which he’d never dreamed possible.

When he came to, he was gasping for breath, trembling in his Mate’s arms. John looked just as shaken, eyes wide and lips swollen. As his heart rate slowed, he felt somehow different, in a way he couldn’t quite place. He mentally did a head-to-toe check, not sensing anything out of the ordinary. John frowned above him, but he smiled and touched his cheek.

“Love you,” he breathed, and John smiled in relief.

“Thought I’d hurt you somehow. It’s never felt like that before.” 

“Mm,” Roger hummed in agreement, grabbing his discarded shirt and using it to wipe his belly. His belly… his brow creased, and he placed a hand on his stomach. There was no real physical way to tell, not really, but something in the back of his mind whispered something that made him smile.

“John?” he said quietly, his lips curling into a hopeful grin. “I think… I think that might’ve done it.”

“Really?” his Mate asked in a sort of hushed excitement. He placed his hand alongside John’s, and smiled wider. “We’ll know soon enough, but… you’re right, something does feel different.”

Roger beamed up at John, but when he looked at his Mate’s neck, his jaw dropped.

“J… John? Is that… Christ!” Roger slapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes bulging. 

“What?” John snapped, panicking suddenly. Roger pointed a shaking finger, and John’s hand flew to his own neck, wincing suddenly. “Broke skin, did you?” he said with a nervous laugh. “It’s a good thing we’re in scarf weather, then.” 

“Not that! You’re… We’re…” Roger tried to pull away, but winced as John’s knot was still firmly lodged inside him.

“Just spit it out, love, you’re scaring me.”

“You’ve got a Mark!”

“I… I what?” John sat up, scanning the room for anything that could be used as a reflective surface. He spied Roger’s chrome-plated lighter on the nightstand and reached for it, squinting and trying to find the right angle. Roger could tell the instant he did, because he froze completely, his jaw dropping.

“John,” Roger said, his eyes watering. He couldn’t believe it. After all their struggling, all the worry about whether or not he was good enough for John, he had his answer in the absolute least likely way possible. “We’re…”

“True Mates,” John finished for him, his own cheeks already wet. He dropped the lighter to the bed and cupped Roger’s face in his hands gently, as if he were made of porcelain. “You’re my True Mate. The one I’m meant to be with.”

“And you’re mine,” Roger replied, sniffling and leaning into John’s touch. “I love you.”

“I love you,” John echoed, before pressing their lips together in a searing kiss. “My omega. My True Mate.”

The two held each other tightly, sharing sweet kisses and sweeter words. When John was able to pull away he left just long enough to grab a damp cloth, back to his Mate’s side in an instant cleaning him with the gentlest touch. Roger made grabby hands at him, and they both laughed as alpha joined omega under the covers.

“I can’t wait to tell Freddie,” John sighed. “He’ll be so happy for us. Hopeless romantic that he is, he’ll be overjoyed at being friends with a real True Mated pair.”

Roger frowned a bit and bit his lip. He didn’t doubt for a second the singer would be over the moon; it was Brian he was concerned about.

“Let’s wait,” he said quickly. “Let’s not tell them yet.”

John looked down at him, head tilted and brow creased.

“I just mean… why not wait til we find out whether I’m pregnant? Get it all over with- I mean, share all the good news at once.”

“I suppose,” John said, though he looked unsure.

“It won’t take long.” Roger kissed him softly, stroking his cheek. “Soon as we see that little pink plus sign, we can tell everyone, I promise.”

“Alright,” John sighed, leaning into his omega’s soothing touch. “We’ve waited this long. And we’ll be home, where we can tell them properly. Fred usually throws himself a welcome-home party, maybe that would be a good time, while we’re already celebrating.”

“Yeah…that should be alright.”

\-----

“Ladies, gentlemen, and everything in between - here’s to another glorious success! We owe it all to you, Darlings!” Freddie exclaimed, and a cheer erupted from the crowd. Roger laughed as the singer hopped down off the table, champagne splashing from his glass. The party was surprisingly tame - only a hundred or so people, some of which the drummer even knew.

Beside him, John cleared his throat and nudged his hip. He looked over at his Mate, and the younger man gave him a pointed stare. Oh. Roger looked around, hoping for some excuse to put it off; he didn’t know entirely why he was hesitant, other than he didn’t want to disrupt such a happy occasion. Fred was being his usual self, treating every stranger like a long-lost relative. And Brian… Brian had an arm wrapped around Kitty’s shoulders as they talked in hushed tones, a pinkish hue to both their cheeks. Roger felt uneasy, watching the happy couple, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that something was about to go very, very wrong.

“Er, excuse me,” John spoke up, tapping the side of his glass with a pen. “If I could have everyone’s attention for a moment, Roger and I have an announcement. Two, actually.”

Roger swallowed hard as all eyes turned to them. John took a step forward and reached for Roger’s hand, giving it a squeeze and smiling at him. So he was leaving it up to the omega to break the news… wonderful.

“Right. Well. As some of you know, John and I have been Mates for a while now. How long exactly’s a bit fuzzy,” he said with a nervous laugh, and the crowd politely chuckled along. “But, well… it’s kind of funny, really, how things work out sometimes, innit?” He smiled uneasily again, feeling more at a loss for words than he ever had in his life. Lord, he wished there was more than just water in his glass. Absently his hand moved to his belly as he took a sip, and suddenly he heard Freddie gasp. He met the singer’s wide eyes, and well, there was nothing for it now.

“We’re expecting,” he said finally, and after a rippled breath, the crowd cheered out their congratulations. Roger was afraid to look at Brian, but how could he not? It was as bad as he feared, a myriad of emotions flickering across his friend’s features - shock, betrayal, guilt, and finally a sort of resignation. Roger wished he knew how to fix it, but as he felt his Mate step closer, he knew things were about to get so much worse.

“The other bit of news,” the Alpha spoke up, and unwound the fashionable yet slightly uncharacteristic scarf from his neck. “We’ve discovered that we’re actually-”

“True Mates?!” Fred exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “Oh my goodness! How dreadfully romantic!”

Roger winced, his eyes catching the way Brian’s eyes seemed to lose all light and life in them. He felt like he could cry, so conflicted between joy and pain - because really, he loved John so much, and he was beyond blessed to have him in his life, but at what cost?

Their friends and colleges crowded them, offering congratulations and well wishes and promises from those closest to spoil the little ones rotten. Roger felt stifled as he tried to keep an eye on Brian, but the guitarist seemed to fade back behind the throng. He smiled and hugged John, but as soon as he was able to he broke away, searching for the guitarist.

“Paul,” Roger said, catching his least favorite person, but the only one not so caught up in the excitement that he might’ve seen which way his bandmate had gone. “Where’s Brian? He was right over here a minute ago.”

“So sorry, Rog. Think he and Kitty stepped out. Said he wasn’t feeling well.” Paul gave a sickening smile. “Congratulations, of course. Guess you’ll be pretty busy for a while, you and John? Nobody would blame you if we had to take a break for a bit.”

Roger refused to take the bait; he had more important things to worry about. Brian leaving didn’t sit right with him. Of course there was the hurt at not having his closest friend offer his support, but that was only part of it. Roger sat heavily on a couch and closed his eyes. Would life always be like this? Every joyful moment with his Mate being tainted by guilt at not returning his friend’s affections? He’d thought Brian was happy with Kitty, and maybe… maybe he’d get over his feelings for Roger. 

“Feeling alright, love?” John said, suddenly beside the blonde.

“Brian left. Didn’t say goodbye or anything.”

“He probably just wanted some alone time with his girlfriend,” John replied with a dismissive wave. “You’ll talk to him tomorrow, I’m sure.”

“You’re probably right…” Roger sighed and scratched his head. “Just got a bad feeling.”

“You worry so much about him.” John frowned, his tone less amused and more annoyed. “I know he’s your friend and all, but… I just feel like sometimes you worry more about your friendship with him, than our relationship.”

Roger wanted to be offended, but when he stopped for half a second to think, John had a point, even if he was putting it a bit bluntly. Brian was his friend, but John was his Mate, and the father of his pups. He smiled and leaned over, kissing John’s lips and stroking his cheek.

“You’re right. I’m sorry, alpha. You’re the most important person in my life. I love you.”

“I love you too. And I love how much you care about him. But he’s a grown man; he can take care of himself.”

“I know. He’ll be fine. Come on, we’ve got celebrating to do.” Roger grinned and stood, pulling John up with him and leading him to the dance floor. John was right; Brian could handle himself. And as much as Roger cared, he had his own life to think about. A life he never dreamed he’d have, but he was more grateful for with every passing day.


End file.
